


Wherever I Go, I'll Make It Home

by PunishedPyotr



Series: White Diamond [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Denial, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unresolved Emotional Tension, oculolinctus as a plot point, reupload, spiritual successor to As You Say, weird af pacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedPyotr/pseuds/PunishedPyotr
Summary: Holding Liquid from behind, head resting on his shoulder - from this angle, the scar on his stomach looked like a V.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah i know this was the one everyone was wiating for:) or at least the series everyone was
> 
> i've been thinking about moving to an everyday update schedule instead of an every day one, aireyv suggested i didn't because """"flooding the tag"""""" was part of what got them in trouble LAST time but ehhhh they also said they'd leave the decision up to me so idk what does everyone else think? i'd still be alternating fics (since there's a really big backlog of stuff whtat wasn't part of this series also) but would that just make things worse? please comment

Shalashaska was coming.

That’s what they said. Liquid didn’t believe it. Shalashaska, here? Some imposter using his name, more like. What the hell kind of business would the real one have _here_ , of all places? Here, an abandoned village somewhere in a vague Middle Eastern desert where a group of stubborn Iraqi insurgents held coalition hostages as their human meat shields…

Hostages. Huh. More like hostage, singular. Liquid was the only one left now — the others from his SAS unit had all died within the first year, and a couple other prisoners who had also been there, both before and after them, had also withered away into nothing. Liquid had been here for, by his estimation, a bit over three and a half years now, since he knew he’d been captured in January 1991 and by now it was… what, August 1994? September? How many full moons had he seen since that failed mission?

The point was that he was alone with virtually no hope of escape. He’d tried, of course, repeatedly, but he’d been unsuccessful and by the time the first six months were out his strength had waned too much to do anything other than just survive.

But survive he did. Bitterly.

And now, apparently, Shalashaska was coming.

That was the new threat being spat at him, one more of scores, or hundreds, as the Iraqis tried to break his will. At this point, any information he could have given them would be horribly outdated, but it was no longer _about_ information - just _breaking_ him. Make him shut up once and for all (without risking losing their last hostage, of course). If there was anything Liquid enjoyed in this godforsaken camp, it was getting a rise out of his captors, even if it always resulted in another beating or another—

Well, at the very least when he pissed them off it was proof that Liquid was still alive and still himself. True, he was a mere shadow of what he once was, and sometimes he did slip into some sort of temporary docile state where he was silent and uncomprehending of the horrors around him, but… they didn’t _break_ him. A shell of himself was still _himself_.

“I’ve been interrogated by Shalashaska before,” Liquid told them, with as much dismissive acerbity in his voice as he had the energy for.

“Oh?” said the Iraqi guard in a very bored tone, “and what did he do to you?”

“You ought to ask what _I_ did to _him_.”

Ran him over with a goddamn giant robot, that was. Of course, that would be hard to explain to the Iraqis, so that would be a detail left out if they bothered to ask… just like the detail where Shalashaska hadn’t _interrogated_ him so much as he just sat him in a chair and lectured him for like 45 minutes. Worst that had happened was a couple intrusions of his personal space.

Hey, he was twelve.

The guard rolled his eyes. “It was probably just some faker using his name and reputation for his own ends.”

Liquid scoffed. It kind of hurt his throat. “And what makes you think the ‘Shalashaska’ that’s supposed to be coming here is the real one?”

“Oh, we just know.”

Fuck him. That wasn’t an answer.

Liquid was strung up from a hook on the ceiling (his cell used to be the backroom of a butcher’s, near as he could figure) by his wrists. Dimly he remembered Kazuhira Miller and how he had lost two limbs while being held prisoner, and hearing about how the reason why they’d amputated his arm and his leg actually to keep him alive just a little longer, because bloodflow had been cut off to them for too long and gangrene was setting in.

There wasn’t much he could do here besides restlessly flex his fingers every so often - or at least do his best to - and hope that the same wouldn’t happen to him. He needed his hands.

There was talking outside.

A man stepped into Liquid’s cell. Liquid recognized him, mostly because of the red scarf and the large, sharp nose.

Ocelot.

He looked older - of course he did, it had been ten years since Liquid had last seen him — his already light hair had faded to white and he had it brushed back into a ponytail now, and he had a moustache and dressed a little differently (no more man-cleavage), but… well, there was no question about who he was.

And judging by the way Ocelot was looking at him, his eyes narrowed slightly, he was thinking the same thing.

“You’re in luck,” he said, turning slightly to the Iraqi soldier next to him, but not taking his eyes off of Liquid, “I happen to know this man.”

“What?” said the guard Liquid had been talking to earlier. “Have you interrogated him before?”

“Oh, yes. After a fashion, anyway.”

Liquid glared at him, and Ocelot raised an eyebrow slightly, then finally pulled his gaze away to talk to the Iraqis more directly. “Give me a few hours with him alone. I’ll break him for you. He won’t bother you anymore by the time I’m done with him.”

The Iraqis quickly agreed and left, closing the heavy door behind them with a _slam_. Then there was a very long silence as Ocelot and Liquid sized each other up.

“Have you been bound like this for long?” Ocelot said eventually, switching over to English (which none of the Iraqis happened to speak).

“I can’t feel my hands anymore, does that tell you anything?” Liquid said sarcastically in same.

Ocelot’s moustache twitched in what could have been amusement. “Same sharp tongue - you’re definitely Eli alright.” He took Liquid’s jaw between his forefingers and thumb, and tilted his head slightly, scrunitizing him. Liquid watched him very closely in turn, untrusting. “Not that I needed any confirmation of who you are. I could never forget your face. Even with those bags under your eyes, you still look almost exactly like your father.”

Liquid’s lips pulled back in a snarl. Ocelot chuckled, taking half a step back and dropping his hand.

“Alright, let’s have a little talk, Eli. I didn’t come here by coincidence. I’ve been going through the region offering my services as an interrogator to anyone who asks for about the last three years. We figured that wherever you were, sooner or later your captors were going to get fed up with you and want the assistance of a… professional. Assuming they didn’t outright kill you, that is. Seems you got lucky.”

Liquid stared at him, with no more a trusting look than he’d had a minute ago. “‘We’?” he said dryly.

“Your mother. She wasn’t happy about hearing you’d been taken prisoner and she wasn’t having any success finding you on her own, and I owed her a favor, anyway.”

“…”

“She was actually the one who got the search area narrowed down to southern Iraq for me, this past December. You’ll have to send her a nice thank-you note once you’re out of here.”

“Did you come to get me out of here?” Liquid dared to ask.

Ocelot made a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “Not right this moment. I can’t exactly just walk out of here with you on my back, nor would the Iraqis buy any excuse I might give about needing to transport you somewhere else. But soon, Eli. Soon.”

“How soon?”

“That depends. You have two options here.” He unholstered his revolver and starting twirling it around his finger, almost absent-mindedly. Liquid tracked it with his eyes for a few moments, then looked back to Ocelot’s face, dizzy. “Option one is that I alert the American military about this camp. They’ve still got boots on the ground around here, and they’ll definitely be up for smoking out some of the remaining insurgents — but there’s a very good chance you’ll die in the raid, and moreover it’s unlikely said raid would happen any sooner than, say, three or four days from now. And that’s the optimistic schedule.

“But… if you live, they’ll send you back to London, where you can recover in peace and figure out what to do with yourself from there.” He impassively glanced down Liquid’s body, and Liquid looked away deliberately. He’d been strung up in his cell like this all day, so he couldn’t really be blamed for the fact that several hours ago he had wet himself, but still… “In a hospital, from the looks of things.”

“What’s option two?”

“Option two is that V - I mean, Big Boss is alerted instead. Very likely he’d come get you personally. He’d be here tonight, or at least before tomorrow morning, and I _highly_ doubt you’d be injured any further during the rescue. You’d be taken back to Mother Base and be under the care of our medical staff there. Clearly the better option, if you ask me.”

Liquid stared at the floor. There were wide swathes of streaky orange-brown leading to the drain in the center of the room, bloodstains, some of which had been there when he got here. Probably animal blood from when this butcher’s was still a butcher’s. Some of it was his own, though. A lot of it was.

“I sense reluctance.”

“I… don’t want to go back there.”

“Enough that you’d rather I get the Americans involved?”

Liquid kept staring at the floor. “I know, you know,” he said at length. “About the whole body double thing. After I… left, I… we… happened to come across the real Big Boss once we made it to America…” He trailed off. _God_ , he hated that man. “The original Big Boss, I mean. I suppose they’re both considered the ‘real’ Big Boss.”

“I know,” Ocelot said, “I was informed when it happened. And I’ll have you know V was relieved to hear you’d survived after all.”

“Hm.”

There was another pause.

“Willing to give him another chance?” Ocelot said.

“Y… yes. Fine. Just get me out of here, as soon as possible.” He really didn’t know how much more he could take.

Ocelot re-holstered his gun. “Glad that’s settled. Of course, now we have a few hours to kill, and you know the Iraqis aren’t going to accept me just walking out of here with you left untouched…”

Liquid winced, still not looking back up at Ocelot. “It’s fine. I can handle pain.”

“There’s more to a good interrogation than pain.”

“…”

“Want me to go easy on you, Eli?”

“…don’t call me that.”

Ocelot just looked at him, still perfectly impassive. “Ah, right. I’d heard you’d started going by your Les Enfants Terribles codename once you’d joined the SIS. I don’t suppose you want to be called ‘Snake’?”

Liquid twitched angrily. “No.”

“Liquid, then.” Ocelot took a half-step forward, too close for comfort once again. “Do you want me to go easy on you, Liquid?”

“Does it really matter how I answer?”

“No.”

Liquid finally looked up at him, glaring again, a silent acquiescence, or perhaps even a challenge.

“Let’s get started, then.” He pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open. “Although I suppose first I should see what they’ve already done to you…”

He cut off Liquid’s shirt, and Liquid jerked his head to the side, pointedly shifting his glare to the wall. After so long he was deathly thin, his ribs jutting out violently from under his skin, which was bruised and paler than he’d ever before been in his life. He’d gained numerous scars over the past ten years, many of them since his imprisonment - he was scabbed, too, a few wounds still healing, a few still fresh enough that Ocelot could probably make them start bleeding again with just his fingers.

“It’s just been beatings for the past, hm, two and a half years, hasn’t it?” Ocelot said, “they stopped bothering with anything more complex?”

Liquid kept glowering at the wall, his nose wrinkling. “No, not just beatings.”

There was an inscrutable silence for a moment, then Liquid felt Ocelot’s hand on his lower back, and his whole body tensed, his heartbeat quickening more than it should have.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, shutting his eyes tightly.

Ocelot ignored him. “They found other ways to torment you, then?” he said casually, his hand slipping down, sliding easily between his sore flesh and his too-big pants, and between the cleft of his ass.

Liquid bit his lip, swallowing a pained whine as Ocelot’s finger reached his raw, inflamed asshole. He tried to shift his weight away from him but Ocelot’s arm was in the way…

“Ah,” Ocelot said. “They certainly had their way with you, didn’t they?”

“Stop,” Liquid said hoarsely.

“Amateurs,” Ocelot continued, his voice softer now. “This kind of hackwork is only done by those who don’t understand how important it is for the interrogator to be able to concentrate. Rape will never get you answers — but, I suppose, they didn’t want answers anymore, did they?”

“Stop,” Liquid said again, “stop it. G-Get away from me.”

Ocelot didn’t seem to notice the tremor in Liquid’s voice, and kept talking. “Of course, all things considered, when it comes to you it could be a legitimate technique. You couldn’t care less about pain - but your _pride_ …”

Liquid felt Ocelot’s finger push up into him and he bit his lip harder, his body spasming in pain. Again he tried to move away - forward this time, towards Ocelot if that’s what it took, but stopped at a sharp pain next to hip. Damn. He still had that knife out. Liquid would probably gut himself if he kept trying to squirm away from the burning intrusion, but…

“Oh, god,” Liquid said, tilting his head back, gritting his teeth. “D-Don’t do this, Ocelot. Not th-this. Anything but this…!”

“I suppose it’s only fitting that such an insult to art is effective on you of all people.”

“Stop, stop, stop, s-stop—“

He groaned as he felt another finger. _Fuck_ , it _hurt_. And his head was spinning, although somehow he doubted that had much at all to do with the pain. Maybe more related to the dehydration or exhaustion, or the fact that Ocelot was-

Fuck.

“You know,” Ocelot said, “if you scream a little, it’ll add authenticity. I’m sure the Iraqis are listening in.”

Liquid pressed his lips together, shaking his head frantically. Ocelot prodded him with his knife and he yelped involuntarily.

“Much better.”

He briefly wondered why, if convincing the Iraqis that Ocelot was really doing his job was the goal here, they couldn’t just mutually fake it, but his thoughts were derailed as Ocelot’s fingers curled against his walls, his sharp nails scraping terribly, and Liquid whimpered.

“D-Didn’t Miller say something, back then,” Liquid said, breathing just a little too hard, “about how you get too many kicks from torturing people?”

“I’m surprised you remember that,” Ocelot said in a tone of voice that did nothing to acknowledge the fact that he had two fingers up Liquid’s ass and a knife pressed against his stomach. “I didn’t even realize you knew about that conversation.”

“I knew a-about a lot of things that y-you didn’t know I knew.” He tried to move away from Ocelot’s hand again without thinking, and winced as he felt a trickle of blood run down his skin. “You’re f-fucking enjoying yourself, a-aren’t you, Ocelot?”

Ocelot just scoffed instead of answering. One finger rudely nudged against Liquid’s prostate, and Liquid’s body jerked, his eyes snapping open. He kept staring at the ceiling, though. He couldn’t bear to look at Ocelot right now. “Oh… oh god…”

It was difficult to tell if Liquid starting to get hard was just some kind of Pavlovian response after years of abuse, or if Ocelot was just rather skillful at toying with men’s asses. Certainly the weird, unwanted pleasure mixing nauseatingly with his pain was a result of the latter, though. Something about it went just past visceral and into tapping into some _hunger_ Liquid hadn’t really known existed.

The blade-point vanished from his skin, and half a second later Liquid felt the heel of Ocelot’s hand (still holding the knife) rub against his crotch, a little too gently. “They’ve conditioned you well, haven’t they?”

“Gh… get… your hands off of m-me, Ocelot…”

Liquid tried to adjust his body so he was at least a little more- comfortable, but it was a difficult feat when his feet were only barely touching the floor to begin with and every move made his poor aching shoulders throb almost as much as his ass. He rolled his head forward, leaning it against his arm and glaring at Ocelot again.

It was a small comfort to see that there was nothing in Ocelot’s expression that indicated he was _enjoying_ this. Certainly he didn’t exactly look _bored_ , but there wasn’t much emotion on his face at all. Just a glint in his eye that Liquid could convince himself only existed because Ocelot was finally at the end of what amounted to a three-year assignment.

“Anyway,” Ocelot said, finally drawing his hand away from the growing tent of Liquid’s pants, “Miller’s not around anymore.”

“Did he f-finally die?” Liquid asked, trying to distract himself. (It wasn’t working very well.)

“No — he left Diamond Dogs, about a year after you did. Didn’t give us much warning, either.”

“Ha. We knew he w-was going to do that e-e-eventually-y—” He grit his teeth again as Ocelot’s fingers spread and his hips seemed to jerk on their own. God, and the coarse fabric of his pants rubbing up against his cock was really starting to bother him, too…

“From what I hear, he’s working with your father now as the drill instructor for his unit,” Ocelot continued like Liquid wasn’t panting harshly and shivering. “I was surprised to hear it, honestly. I thought Miller would never forgive him. Hell, I thought he’d never be able to stand being in the same building as him ever again. Not without trying to kill him, anyway.”

“Oh- god, Ocelot, _stop_ —“

Ocelot narrowed his eyes slightly, then the knife was back at Liquid’s too-sensitive skin, forcing him to still. Liquid stared at him, in pain, confusion tugging at his brain - was he really that tired? Or was it the desperation he felt, the primal urge to keep rocking back and forth on Ocelot’s hand even though it fucking _hurt?_

And then the knife dug in, and Liquid actually screamed as Ocelot cut through his flesh, stopping just short of anything too important. His throat gave out as he tried to pull himself away from the blade, forcing Ocelot’s fingers deeper into him.

“Don’t,” he choked, eyes wide, “d-don’t… Ocelot… j-just end this…”

“Giving up so soon?” Ocelot said, twisting the knife. Liquid drew in a pained gasp through his teeth, trying very hard to not shake so badly lest some vital organ or blood vessel get nicked.

“I-I was at my absolute limit _three y-years_ ago.”

“And yet you continued to make a nuisance of yourself.” Liquid had no idea if he was supposed to concentrate on the hand massaging his prostate, his erection, or the blood running down his stomach and legs - or if he even _could_ concentrate on just one of them, if he even could do anything besides suffer through this too-intense chaos of sensation. His heart and his head were pounding. “But then, I suppose that’s just you being exactly who you are.”

“Wh- w-what do you want f-from me, Ocelot? Just l-let me be a-and I’ll just w-wait for someone to c-come get me, I-I won’t d-do anything else, I w-won’t, I, ah, mngh… hh… leave m-me alone, j-just…”

Ocelot dragged the knife down, peeling a chunk of Liquid’s flesh away into a loose flap of skin and viscera, his expression still unchanging as Liquid groaned in agony and instinctively drew back, his groan getting breathier and more dazed at Ocelot’s fingers pressing hard against his prostate.

It was too much.

Liquid's whole body seized, and he screamed again - and a wet spot started forming at the front of his pants. Immediately after, he went limp, panting, little shivers wracking his frame, and Ocelot drew his fingers out, glancing disinterestedly at the ring of dark blood at his knuckles.

“Eli?” Ocelot said, patting his cheek. “You still with me?”

Liquid stared at him in overwhelmed confusion, the lines of his face tight. “D-Don’t,” he mumbled under his breath, “don’t… call m-me…”

“You are, then?” He spun the knife around in his fingers, sending droplets of blood everywhere. “Then, I suppose there’s a little something I ought to share with you.”

“N-No… Ocelot…”

“You were right when you said I was enjoying myself. In fact, that’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Liquid’s lips twitched. “What?” he rasped at length.

Ocelot leaned forward and whispered into his ear: “No one’s coming for you.”

And Liquid broke.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ocelot drew back, Liquid’s expression had changed, gone blank. He was just… staring, eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted. When Ocelot goaded him again - “Eli?” - he didn’t react.

Ocelot nodded to himself. He figured he’d do something like this - back when he was twelve it wasn’t uncommon for him to drop into moody, unresponsive silences when things didn’t go his way, and as far as completely shutting down like this went, he’d done that once when Venom had first picked him up. (It probably would have been next to impossible to drag him back to the LZ if he hadn’t.)

Ocelot cut the rope around Liquid’s hands with the switchblade, and Liquid collapsed bonelessly to the floor with barely a wince. Apparently on instinct, he (in a series of uncoordinated twitches) curled in on himself, pressing his arms against the yawning wound Ocelot had given him.

“Good,” Ocelot said, largely to himself, as he slipped his fingers under Liquid’s arm, pushing the flap of flesh back into place for what little good it would do, “looks like I didn’t go overboard. I was worried I’d overestimate you…”

Liquid’s breathing was awfully shallow and ragged.

Ocelot rubbed a hand over Liquid’s hair, which had been unattractively shorn down to his scalp. “Just stay like that,” he said softly, “don’t die on me. Not now.”

He stood, wiping his knife off on his pants, then re-folding it and putting it back. He walked back out of the cell, humming to himself casually.

“So?” said the Iraqi guard from earlier, who was unsurprisingly lurking just outside the building, along with a few others, “we heard a lot of conversation in English. Did he say anything?”

“Nothing important,” Ocelot said, “he was rather delirious for most of the time, anyway.”

One of the others, the youngest one Ocelot had seen at the camp, glanced through the doorway at Liquid curled in a loose fetal position on the floor. “And… you broke him?”

“Naturally.”

“N...no more outbursts?”

“None. As long as you don’t let him recover, that is — just keep his spirit worn down and he won’t be able to raise a hand against you ever again. But,” he added, holding up a hand, “I did have to injure him in order to do it. So unless you want him to _die_ , leave him alone for the next day or so. His body will start to mend itself before his mind does.”

“Also, he can stew in whatever it is you did to him,” said one of the insurgents agreeably.

“Of course.”

The young man who was watching Liquid through the doorway still hadn’t looked away. Ocelot narrowed his eyes at him, twitching his moustache, and the insurgent quickly stepped back, embarrassed. “Ah,” said one of the others, “how much do we owe you for this, Shalashaska?”

“This one’s on the house,” Ocelot said, waving his hand dismissively, “since I did previously know him and all. Been looking for a way to take him down a notch or two for years… anyway, I’d best be on my way. And don’t forget - leave him _alone_ for the next day or two. He can’t take another shock to his system just yet.”

“Yes, Shalashaska.”

* * *

The door to the cell clicked softly. Moonlight streamed in as it opened, interrupted by a large figure.

Liquid stared blearily up at the man bearing his face, except wrinkled and scarred and with an eyepatch and a white beard.

“F… Father…?”

“Eli? Good, you’re still alive,” he said in an undertone.

Slowly Liquid’s eyes fixed on the chunk of shrapnel sticking out of his forehead like a horn, then he let his head fall back to the floor. (He hadn’t otherwise moved since Ocelot had dropped him there, hours and hours ago.) “You’re not him… you’re… the other…”

“Don’t talk,” Venom said, propping Liquid up and frowning at the gaping wound across his stomach. Ocelot had really done a number on him… but then again, if he hadn’t, Venom wouldn’t be able to come get him like this.

He picked Liquid up, carefully shouldering him and shushing him when he cried out in pain. Within a minute Venom could feel blood soaking through his scarf. He slipped back out of the cell without anyone noticing.

They’d just cleared the boundaries of the abandoned village-cum-POW camp when Liquid started mumbling again.

“Ocelot said… you weren’t coming…”

“I know,” Venom said, “he explained the situation to me.”

“He… he lied… I thought I was going to die there…”

“This is Pequod,” came over Venom’s radio, “arriving shortly at LZ.”

“And he… hurt me… god, it hurts. Father, i-it hurts…”

He was kind of out of it, wasn’t he? Considering the state he was in right now, Venom really couldn’t blame him.

“This is Pequod! Have arrived at LZ!”

Quiet appeared out of nowhere as Venom set Liquid down on the floor of the helicopter. She gave both of them a scrunitizing look, then tilted her head at Venom. Venom shrugged. Pequod took off.

Once they were out of the hot zone and on their way back to Mother Base, Venom did some basic first aid (mostly mopping up the blood and making sure Liquid kept pressure on the wound - he’d been reflexively doing that already, even though he had only been semi-conscious for the past while) and Venom draped a jacket over him to keep him warm until they landed. The whole situation reminded him of that time he’d rescued Kaz in Afghanistan…

He missed Kaz…

Quiet handed him a water bottle, and he tried to get Liquid to drink. It kind of worked out in the sense that Liquid was too dizzy to do more than take a few small sips, which was what he was supposed to be doing anyway. (If he drank too much water all at once, he would just throw up, which would leave him even worse off.)

“I think he’s going to be okay,” Venom said to Quiet, and she gave him a thumbs up.

“That’s good to know,” Pequod said. “Remember the time he and those other child soldiers took Queequeg hostage, but he let him live? I always figured the kid couldn’t be _all_ bad…”

Quiet’s expression seemed to say, ‘All bad or not, close to four years in a prison camp probably took him down a few pegs anyway.’ Specifically, the part where she rolled her eyes said that.

“Why?” Liquid said when they were well over the ocean.

“Why what?” Venom said.

“Why did Ocelot say…”

“Let me talk to him,” Ocelot said over the radio. Venom handed the earpiece off to Liquid without comment.

“Listen, Eli,” Ocelot said once Liquid was listening.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I only did what I did to save you. The Iraqis expected me to break you - my reputation precedes me, I’m afraid - and if I _hadn’t_ , they would have suspected I was up to something. There’s no telling what they would have done to _you_. Best case scenario would have been them moving camps, which would have meant a delay as we tracked you down again. More likely, they would have outright killed you.”

“You… didn’t have to do it like that.”

There was a sigh. “You have every right to be mad at me, Liquid, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But as long as we’re on Mother Base together, you need to remember - I did it to save you.”

“…”

Liquid handed Venom back the earpiece and took another silent sip of water. He vaguely wished he would pass out so he wouldn’t have to think or feel for a little while.

When Mother Base came into view over the horizon, Liquid spoke again, the same question.

“Why?”

“What now?” Venom said.

“…I… tried to kill you, several times. Why did… why even bother with me?”

Venom gave him a look that Liquid couldn’t quite interpret. “You were just a kid back then,” he said, “and you didn’t know I wasn’t the one you wanted to kill. Neither of us knew.”

“But…” He glanced at Quiet, who seemed to be ignoring the conversation entirely. “I don’t have anything to do with you. So why rescue me?” He looked out the window at the approaching platforms. It had expanded since he’d left, but not by a whole lot. “Why bring me back here after all this time?”

“Because I never wanted it to end the way it did.”

* * *

Liquid was patched up, washed, given clean clothes, and placed in a bed somewhere on the medical platform with an IV and curtains for privacy if he wanted it. He really didn’t remember most of the process - it had passed by in a blur that he couldn’t pick the details out of and now that he thought he about it, he wasn’t sure how long he had been lying in bed, either. Maybe he’d fallen asleep at some point.

He vaguely recalled Ocelot’s presence at some point - talking to the medic, probably because Liquid found himself unable to get more than a few words out before clamming up and, like it or not, Ocelot knew what had _happened_ in the POW camp. Liquid still felt dirty, despite being cleaned, and he didn’t realize until now that it wasn’t the kind of dirty that soap and water and disinfectant could do anything about. It was a kind of filth that reached down deep inside him to places that shouldn’t be touched.

Liquid glanced around the room he was in. It was a rather large one, with two rows of beds on either wall, and there were a handful of other guys in here (well, a handful of men, one woman, and a few curtained beds he assumed had someone in them) - all bandaged somehow, broken bones, burns, the like. As far as Liquid could see he was in the worst condition, and he wondered if the reason there wasn’t anyone just lying in here ill was because sickness was confined to a separate room just in case it was contagious.

“Hey, look,” said the man a bed over from him, who had a lot of bandages on his chest, “the new guy’s finally awake.”

“I keep telling you, he looks familiar,” said the woman, who had a neck brace and a cast on her arm. “I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before - around here, even.”

“Wasn’t he a prisoner that the Boss picked up in Iraq last night?” said the sole person younger than Liquid, a boy in his mid-teens who had probably been a ‘rescued’ child soldier, who from the looks of things had sprained or broken his ankle. “I don’t know where you’d know him from, Tree Frog.”

“I _have_ been here for ten years now, Aiah. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go in that time…”

“You feel up to talking, kid?” said the man with the bandages on his chest.

“Don’t call me ‘kid’,” Liquid muttered sourly.

The woman, Tree Frog, blinked. “Wait, I think I know who this is. Eli? Is that you?”

Liquid glared at her. “I don’t use that name.”

She smiled. “Christmas, it _is_ him. Do you remember me? Biting Tree Frog, intel unit — you tried to stab me once.”

“I tried to stab a lot of people.”

Another man, with a heavy cast on one leg, looked between Liquid and Biting Tree Frog. “You what?” he said.

“He sounds like he’s willing to stab even more people,” the bandaged man said to himself, then added, “But, as long as he only stabs who the Boss tells him to stab, and not any of us…”

The corner of Liquid’s mouth twitched in a momentary frown. Right. It probably _was_ kind of expected that he’d join up with Diamond Dogs after this. And… to be fair, he had decided not long after his capture that he wasn’t going to go back to the SAS _or_ the SIS, so for the moment he _was_ a… bit on the unemployed and homeless side.

But he didn’t really want to think about it right now… his head hurt…

“Well, welcome to Outer Heaven, kid,” said the casted man, “I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“ _Don’t_ call me ‘kid’,” Liquid repeated with a scowl, then blinked. “Outer Heaven?”

“The name changed a few years back,” Biting Tree Frog explained, “not too long after Commander Miller left. Oh, and Commander Miller left.”

“I heard,” Liquid said.

The conversation sort of dwindled after that, and - with much more difficulty and pain than it should have entailed, and a warning from the bandaged man not to burst his stitches - Liquid closed the curtains around his bed and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

When Liquid woke up again, the lighting in the room had changed, so he presumed that somehow he’d managed to sleep through the night and it was morning now. Or maybe it had been morning earlier, and it was just afternoon now. It was hard to gauge how long he’d actually slept for when he was still bone-tired, and hard to think about how bone-tired he was when saying he was sore all over was putting it lightly.

Also, Ocelot was here.

Liquid didn’t even look at him.

“Not even going to deign to acknowledge my presence?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Liquid said bitterly. They both kept their voices low so the others in the room wouldn’t pay too much attention. (They probably were anyway.)

“Hm. Well, I’ll speak my piece regardless. I was told you were saying a certain name in your sleep - Mantis.”

“…”

“I’m sure you remember that your old friend Tretij Rebenok went off and joined the KGB after the two of you parted ways. I was in the KGB too - I met him again there, except he had started calling himself Bogomol.” There was a brief pause as Ocelot crossed his legs, casually. “Considering that means ‘mantis’ in Russian, it wasn’t hard to figure out who you were calling out for. And as it happens, I’ve been holding onto his contact information since the Soviet Union fell, so…”

“So what?” Liquid said stiffly.

“So I thought you might appreciate a visit. Pequod’s picking him up from Victoria and he arrives in a few hours — consider it a peace offering on my end.”

Liquid was silent for a long time. “I… don’t want to see him,” he finally said.

Ocelot raised an eyebrow. “Oh? With the way he talked about you back in the KGB, I wouldn’t have thought anything had happened between the two of you. And he sounded almost beside himself when I told him you’d been recovered.”

“I… no… I’m sure he thinks he wants to see me again,” Liquid said, lowering his voice more until he was sure only Ocelot could hear him, “but it’s better if he doesn’t.”

“Hmm.”

“Look, he’s got this- _thing_ about sex, so if he knew what… what they _did_ to me, he’d - he… h-he’d never forgive me.”

“You weren’t exactly a willing participant.”

“I-I know, but…”

Ocelot sighed. “He spent almost the last four years not knowing if you were alive or dead, Liquid. I may not know him nearly as well as you do, but somehow I still think he’ll be willing to look past anything.”

* * *

Three miles away from Mother Base, Mantis drew in a sharp breath through his gas mask as his psychic link with Liquid abruptly exploded back into life. Years’ worth of Liquid’s thoughts and memories and emotions poured into his brain, almost threatening to sweep away the ego he’d built up - somehow, Mantis didn’t mind that bit; his personality had been based off of what young Eli had subconsciously projected onto him to begin with, and then later had been rudely overridden by a serial killer - but as he tried to sort through all the new information, getting a feel for Liquid’s mind once more, he came across Liquid’s memories of the Iraqi prison camp and-

Oh god.

Oh, _god_. _No_.

How _dare_ they— _!!_

The instruments in the helicopter briefly went haywire, but before Pequod do anything besides gasp in surprise they all went back to normal as Mantis composed himself once more.

“What was that?!” Pequod said.

“My apologies,” Mantis said coolly, “I lost control of myself for a moment.”

Venom watched the helicopter come in, shielding his eyes against the sun. Quiet tugged at his elbow, then indicated Liquid, who was leaning heavily against a railing nearby.

“Eli?” Venom said. How long had he been standing there? How did he even get out of bed on his own? “You shouldn’t be out here.”

Liquid just shook his head. Venom was about to drag him back to the recovery room if he had to when Tretij Rebenok - black clothes, red hair, gas mask and all, although he was a hell of a lot taller now - jumped down off the helicopter and was standing in front of Liquid in an instant. He made as if to embrace him but stopped with his hands about an inch away from Liquid’s shoulders.

“What are you doing out here?” he said in a high voice. “You can barely stand.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Mantis,” Liquid said with a weak, uncertain smile.

“We will talk later, Eli, for now I am simply glad you are still alive and intact. Go, back to bed with you.”

Liquid opened his mouth to protest but one of the medical unit walked up and ushered him back to the recovery ward without room for argument. Mantis watched them leave, then turned to Venom.

“Your mind is much less jumbled now than it was when I last saw you ten years ago,” he said instead of anything approaching a normal greeting.

“Hm.”

He shook his head. That was beside the point. “You are vaguely wondering if Eli will stick around once he has healed. I will tell you now that he has not thought about it much and won’t come to a decision for a while yet - but should he choose to stay, I request that you add me to your ranks as well. I’m sure I can prove very useful to you.”

“You have no intention of leaving him,” Venom said.

“No, none,” Mantis said, crossing his arms. (The gesture really drove home how thin - and young - he was. He seemed barely out of his teens.) “Look at what happened because I left him once. Never again.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“…thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (new note from aireyv) _lol shoutout if ya caught the Gabir cameo in the first part of this chapter_
> 
> (think from now on i should put aireyv's comments in normal text and just keep mine in parenthesis??)


	3. Chapter 3

No one else in the room seemed to notice Mantis when he walked in and settled in next to Liquid, seeming to sit on an invisible chair. He tilted his head when Liquid blinked in confusion.

“Do you remember reading _Life, the Universe and Everything_ when you were fifteen?” Mantis said.

“Vaguely. Oh, the SEP field gave you an idea, did it?”

“Yes. For the past several years I’ve often found myself walking among people while subconsciously forcing them to pay me no mind.” He stretched a hand out in front of him, examining the back of it, then glanced sharply at Liquid. “Eli, we need to talk.”

“…”

“You were afraid to see me again.”

“I… yes.”

“And… while you were being held prisoner, they-“

He cut himself off. Liquid was staring at his lap, absentmindedly scratching at his abdominal wound, already starting to disengage from the conversation. Mantis sighed, and put a hand over Liquid’s, stopping his fingers’ frenetic movement.

“Eli,” he said in a softer voice, “no one is listening to us. No one has to know about what happened, and I can ensure that they won’t, if you’d like me to.”

“What happened to you, Mantis?” he said abruptly. “You… you’re different. Colder.”

Mantis frowned behind his mask. “It is a long story. After the KGB was dissolved I joined the FBI as a psychic profiler because I was hoping to encounter perhaps a terrorist who may know of your location— nevermind, I can explain it all later. Do not change the subject.”

He felt Liquid’s hand clench nervously in his, so he interlaced their fingers and squeezed gently. It had been a long time since he’d even hinted at such tenderness, and he was glad that right now everyone else in the room was pretty much literally incapable of thinking about them other than just in passing.

“It was not your fault.”

“…but-“

“No. It does not matter to me if you could not or did not fight back. They had no right to even _touch_ you.”

“…”

“And _Ocelot_ …”

“He did it to save me,” Liquid said, almost reflexively.

Mantis narrowed his eyes. “You believe him?” he said, his voice no longer soft. “After what he did?”

“He- he had to break me, he told me. He had to crush my hope like that, or…”

Mantis shook his head angrily. “There are a thousand ways he could have found where you were and reported back without raising suspicion _without_ laying a finger on you. You _know_ that. Even now, you can hardly stand the thought of him. Look,” he said, raising the hand holding Liquid’s slightly, “your hands are _shaking_ , remembering what he did.”

“I- I—“ Liquid started, wincing, “it was nothing, Mantis. It was just one more out of a million, what does it matter?”

“ _If nothing else_ , Eli, you and he are both residents of Mother Base for the time being. You essentially live together - so it is extremely easy for Ocelot to access you if he likes. He’s already dropped by your bedside without your permission once. Suppose he does it again?”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You should be,” Mantis snapped, letting go of his hand. “You wasted your energy fearing my reproach when you _should_ be thinking about how to be cautious around _him_. I don’t trust him not to try anything with you.”

Liquid gave him a troubled look. Honestly, he’d never seen Mantis so angry in his life - or angry in general, really, he’d always known Mantis to be rather passive with his emotions (once he’d started experiencing them, anyway). “Did you see something in his thoughts?”

There was a long pause, and Mantis sat back with an audible snarl of frustration. “No,” he said at length, “I’ve never been able to read Ocelot’s mind. I could not tell you why - genetics, I suppose. But all the more reason to not trust him, in my opinion. In fact, he ought to be killed for- for _violating_ you like that. Anyone who participated in any of that should be, of course, but Ocelot’s the immediate threat.”

Liquid went back to staring at his lap. Mantis leaned forward again.

“I am more than willing to do it for you,” he said, his voice soft once more, “I can even make it look like an accident. No one will know. Just say the word, Eli.”

“Mantis, I don’t…”

“Where did your desire for revenge go, Eli? This isn’t like you.”

“I-I just don’t want to think about it, Mantis. Leave Ocelot alone. Leave _me_ alone.”

Again a long pause, and again Mantis sat back with a huff. “Eli…”

“I don’t know and I don’t care why he- why did he did it the way he did, and I’m not about to forgive him for it, either. But… because of that… I am here now. I’m free again. And- you’re here with me, again, because of him. So I’d rather just not think about it for now.” He glanced at Mantis with almost a challenging look. “Is that alright with you?”

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Mantis said, “and I still do not understand you.” He sighed deeply. “But that is how you feel, so… I will respect your wishes.”

“Mm.”

“And — I am not leaving you again, Eli. I think we’ve proved that you- that _we_ still need each other.”

“I… I know, Mantis.”

* * *

No one could really blame Liquid for getting restless after having spent three and a half years in a cell. Members of the medical unit - and the others recuperating in the same room - quickly gave up on trying to get him to stay in bed, on the condition that he not do anything even remotely strenuous and not spend too long in the sun. Stay hydrated, don’t re-open your wounds, no running or climbing, come back for meals and pills, don’t go too far from the medical platform, if you feel even slightly light-headed or tired sit down immediately, et cetera, et cetera. As long as he behaved himself, it was figured that being able to stretch his legs would actually go a long way in helping him recover.

Liquid wasn’t great at behaving himself.

That was where Mantis came in. He wasn’t by Liquid’s side every second - in exchange for being allowed to stay at Mother Base while Liquid was pulling himself back together, piece by piece, he was now a temporary staff member and had things to do - but any time Liquid was about to overestimate himself, he’d suddenly appear within half a minute and tell him no.

“I don’t like being treated like an invalid,” Liquid grumbled.

“ _I_ don’t like the prospect of you permanently crippling yourself because you do not know how to let yourself rest,” Mantis replied scoldingly.

Sometimes he didn’t even bother showing up physically and would just snap at Liquid directly into his mind. Like the one time Liquid had been practicing at the shooting range with a ‘borrowed’ gun and Ocelot walked in. Liquid started missing all his shots completely after that.

“Hmm.” Ocelot watched Liquid with a frown. “Lost your touch after all this time, have you?”

_Tell him you don’t want to talk_ , Liquid heard Mantis’ voice in his head, _then leave._

“What do you want?” Liquid said cagily.

_Eli._

“Nothing,” Ocelot said, “I wasn’t even expecting to find you here.” He whipped out his SAA and put six rapid-fire holes in the dead center of Liquid’s target, then spun it around his finger. “Ever used revolvers much, Liquid?”

“No, I always used pistols. More convenient.”

_Eli!_

Ocelot started reloading his gun. “It’s good to expand your horizons once in a while.” He held it out to Liquid butt-first, and after half a moment’s hesitation, Liquid took it.

_Have you lost your mind?! Get away from him!_

“Headache?” Ocelot said as Liquid grit his teeth, raising the hand not holding Ocelot’s revolver to his temple.

“Mantis is yelling at me…”

_How can you stand to be in the same room as him? Alone! After what he did to you!!_

_Stop it_ , Liquid thought. _It’s fine._

_No, it’s not!_

“Did he ever tell you why it was he left the FBI?” Ocelot said.

“Not yet. He said he would.”

“Mm. It’s not important, I’m sure.”

_Eli_ , Liquid heard Mantis’ voice again, _if he so much as brushes a hand against yours, I am going to kill him._

“What happened?” Liquid asked, ignoring Mantis.

“He messed up an investigation, badly. Dived too deep into the mind of some serial killer… he was just barely nineteen and didn’t have a stable sense of self.” He sighed briefly. “He was always getting pushed around back at the KGB… anyway, his will was overridden the same way it had been when he was a child. I hear he murdered a few people before someone shot the serial killer and released him. Of course, it was all covered up - evidently the decision to use a psychic profiler in the first place was controversial, so no one wanted it to get out just how badly it had backfired.”

“I… see,” Liquid said, aiming at the target again. Still unsteady, he noted. “Someone else supplanted the Mantis I knew…”

“Someone else supplanted your influence,” Ocelot said.

Liquid fired and missed. His head hurt. “And it was… permanent.”

_That…_ , he heard Mantis’ voice again, _doesn’t mean anything, Eli._

“Shame,” Ocelot said, “but… it happens. People change. Losing friends is a part of life.”

“I… we’re not…”

_Eli, just go. Now._

“What are you trying to say, Ocelot?”

_Just go!_

“I’m not saying anything. Only that if things change too much between two people, it’s usually better for them to just let each other go instead of trying to go on lying to themselves - no matter how close they once were.”

_Don’t listen to him!!_

Staring to feel overwhelmed at the noise and intrusive anger in his skull, Liquid dropped the gun - Ocelot caught it before it hit the ground, but he stepped far too close to Liquid in the process, and Liquid yanked himself back, stumbling.

“Are you alright?” Ocelot said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m… fine…” Liquid said, holding his head in his hands and crouching, “I just need to sit down for a minute…”

_Eli-!_

“Oh, no…” he moaned. “God, my head…”

“Let’s get you back to the medical platform, Liquid,” Ocelot said, then Liquid felt his hands on his shoulders and jumped away, eyes wide, swinging an arm out violently.

“Don’t you _fucking_ touch me,” he spat, struggling to push himself up off the floor again.

Ocelot held his hands up pacifyingly, advancing again, and Liquid scrambled back, breathing ragged. “Liquid—“

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Mantis suddenly appearing in the doorway, hissing in rage. “He _said_ don’t _touch_ him, Ocelot.”

Ocelot was unimpressed. “I was only trying to help.”

Mantis knelt next to Liquid, still glaring at Ocelot, and put his hands on his shoulders - Liquid jumped at the touch, but accepted it after a fearful glance at Mantis’ mask. “He has had _enough_ of your ‘help’.”

“Mantis…?” Liquid said in a very small, confused voice, and was ignored.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been yelling at him with your telepathy,” Ocelot said dryly, then his eyes flicked down. “Ah. It seems he’s reopened that wound.”

Sure enough, there was blood spreading over the front of Liquid’s shirt. Liquid blinked, then put a hand to it - still not quite registering the pain of it, or even that the blood on his shirt was his.

“Oh,” he said blankly, staring at it. “That’s… not good.”

“Oh, no, Eli… no… Ocelot, go get one of the medical staff! Hurry!” Mantis said, forgetting his anger, his voice bordering on hysterical.

Ocelot departed without another word, and Mantis was left alone in the shooting range with a rather shell-shocked Liquid in his arms. He sighed shakily, pressing Liquid’s hand against the wound, feeling relief at Liquid grimacing in pain. Good, he was coming back to this senses already…

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Liquid muttered, “I just thought… I thought Ocelot was going to… to…”

“Shh.”

“I-I don’t want to even think about…”

“I know, Eli. But you cannot pretend it didn’t happen forever.”

* * *

Liquid found himself skulking around the shooting range quite a lot after that. He knew why, although he didn’t entirely want to admit it to himself — he wanted to see Ocelot again. When they talked, it was somehow… easier for Liquid to act like nothing had happened at the prison camp. After all, here he was standing in front of one of his rapists, and there was nothing in their conversation or hell, even the way Ocelot _looked_ at him to indicate that that had occured at all.

It was like that godforsaken morning before the night of his rescue had just been a dream. A really, really awful dream. That morning’s despair seemed like it belonged to someone else entirely. The whole three and a half years, in fact, seemed like they had happened to some _other_ Liquid Snake, and not him.

Mantis didn’t approve at all, and while he made that clear he also backed off after that incident, not wanting to accidentally cause something like that again. He didn’t admit his responsibility out loud - in fact, he loudly blamed Ocelot - but Liquid knew he felt at fault. He sort of wanted to tell him that he wasn’t, but he honestly thought he was, so he didn’t bother trying.

He didn’t realize that Mantis was, after Liquid’s talk with Ocelot, feeling insecure in his bond with Liquid. “If things change too much between two people, it’s usually better for them to just let each other go instead of trying to go on lying to themselves…” Have _things changed too much between us?_ he wondered, _is Eli going to decide to let me go?_ So he left him alone partially to prove that the Mantis Liquid had spent his adolescence with, the one he had taken under his wing and unintentionally molded after his ‘weaker’ side, still existed. The soft-spoken, shy child who let Eli do whatever he liked was still in there somewhere.

But then, even as a child he’d been protective of his symbiont.

“If something like that happens again,” Mantis said quietly, “Ocelot is going to find himself at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Nothing happened, Mantis,” Liquid said, focused more on picking at a scab.

Even Mantis had to sleep eventually. Liquid knew that that had happened when an idle thought crossed his mind one night about directly visiting Ocelot in his quarters on the command platform and he heard no reaction, or even a foreign little twinge of disapproval.

“Where are you going, Liquid?” Biting Tree Frog murmured sleepily from her bed as Liquid passed it.

“Out.”

“At this time of night, ye cats… well, don’t get into any trouble…”

He caught a ride on one of the Jeeps over to the command platform, and the soldiers already in it really didn’t question him. That was fine by him.

Ten years ago he’d known where Ocelot’s quarters were but going to them tonight he just found some sort of office with a computer system that just screamed ‘budget’. Liquid, feeling vaguely sick for reasons he didn’t want to think about, briefly considered just going back to the medical platform, but then it occured to him that if Miller had left some years back perhaps Ocelot had taken over _his_ quarters.

He found he wasn’t wrong when he knocked on the door and heard Ocelot’s voice: “Just one minute, I was getting ready for bed.”

“It’s only me,” Liquid called back.

A pause, then Ocelot opened the door. He was partially undressed, his shirt hanging open and his hair down. “Something you wanted to talk about?” he said.

“I…”

He stepped back, gesturing. “Come in, Liquid. You can sit down if you like.”

The only place to really sit down was Ocelot’s bed, but Liquid didn’t let that stop him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just… wanted to see you.”

“Hmm. You’ve grown strangely attached to me as of late, haven’t you?”

Liquid broke eye contact. “Strange indeed…”

“Not that I’m complaining. Why, it almost feels like you’ve forgiven me.” He made to finish taking off his shirt. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“So, Liquid,” Ocelot said, continuing undressing in front of Liquid as though it were the most normal thing in the world, “ _have_ you forgiven me?”

“…no. I mean… no, I haven’t. I can’t.”

“Forgive me in particular, or forgive someone in general?”

“I don’t…” Liquid ran a hand over his hair in something like frustration. Damn, he really needed to grow it back out… “I don’t even think about what happened, Ocelot. I don’t want to. And either way it doesn’t matter, it- it wasn’t exactly the first time. It barely stands out. Everything else is a blur.”

“Mm.”

“And you- you did it to save me.”

“That I did.”

There was a long silence. Liquid stared at his lap, and Ocelot, stripped down to his boxers, took his sweet time putting on a nightshirt.

“But you did enjoy yourself, didn’t you?” Liquid said with begrudging, accusatory bitterness. “You got off on it.”

“So did you.”

Liquid flinched. Ocelot was standing in front of him, looking down at him.

“So I did,” Liquid said, his mouth dry.

Ocelot took his face in his hands, tilting it up to look at him, and scrutinized him. There was a look in his eye that Liquid would have liked to believe was pensive but it was really just calculating.

“We all do strange things when we listen to our bodies, Liquid,” he said.

Liquid swallowed hard. “I never wanted any of that. Never.”

“What about now?”

“I- don’t… know how to answer that.”

But that was answer enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Liquid lay semi-conscious on the floor, hand over his abdominal wound, breath coming in wet, sick wheezes. Ocelot crouched nearby, casually humming to himself and cleaning up a puddle of vomit with visible semen in it.

“You’re pretty good, Liquid,” Ocelot said without turning around, “not many people can take a face-fucking like that.”

“My throat… hurts…” Liquid coughed.

“It happens.” He took a clean rag and wiped the saliva, vomit, and pre-seminal fluid off of Liquid’s face, his touch much, much softer than before. Disinterestedly he noted the salt at the corners of Liquid’s eyes where tears had gathered. “But the pain goes away soon. How’s your stomach?”

Ocelot helped him sit up, and Liquid hesitantly pulled his hand away from his wound. The bandage was a bit spotted with blood, mostly in the shape of Ocelot’s fingers, but Liquid’s hand came away clean. Not much bleeding, and it had already stopped anyway. So, not reopened, just irritated. “It’s… fine.”

“That’s good.” He kissed his forehead. “I know sex can be a bit on the rough side, but I didn’t want to harm you. Now…” he slipped one hand down, gently massaging Liquid’s crotch, and Liquid twitched, whimpering. “Do you want me to repay the favor?”

Liquid shook his head, his hand tightening around Ocelot’s wrist. “N-No… I just w-want to sleep now…”

Ocelot drew away. “As you wish, then.”

* * *

Liquid’s throat and jaw still ached when he woke up - and Ocelot wasn’t there anymore, although he had a blanket on him that he didn’t remember grabbing himself - so he put his shirt back on and let himself out of Ocelot’s room, heading back to the medical platform alone, tiredly hoping he wouldn’t catch shit for skipping breakfast.

Mantis met him on the bridge over, fists clenched, shaking, eyes narrowed to slits behind his mask.

“You idiot. You _idiot!_ ”

“Leave me alone,” Liquid muttered and kept walking.

Mantis drifted behind him. “Why did you do that? What is _wrong_ with you?!”

Liquid let out a humorless laugh. “You tell me, Mantis.”

“Why would you let Ocelot _use_ you like that?! You even slept on the floor afterwards… Eli, this is not-“

“Just leave me alone about it,” Liquid snapped. “I can make my _own_ decisions, thank you.”

“You made a _terrible_ decision,” Mantis snapped back. “If _only_ because the age gap between you two is greater than your actual _age!_ ”

“We’re both adults, it doesn’t matter.”

“He _raped_ you, Eli!!”

Liquid glanced around quickly to make sure they were alone, then glared at Mantis. “That’s in the past, Mantis. And I don’t want to talk about it,” he said in a low voice.

“It still _happened_.”

“It’s still more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

“Eli, he—“ Mantis blinked, then threw up his arms angrily. “So _that_ is what he was doing when he kept meeting you at the shooting range! You are still emotionally fragile after years in captivity, he was _grooming_ you for sex! And you _went_ with it?!”

“Don’t you dare insinuate he took advantage of me like some kind of child,” Liquid said icily, “I’m _not_ fragile, and I don’t need you butting in like this.”

“ _Clearly_ you do. I am going to kill Ocelot.”

“Leave him alone! For fuck’s sake, Mantis, this has nothing to do with you!”

“Eli, I-“ he stopped, then put his hands over the lens of his gas mask, taking a deep breath. “I am _disgusted_ with you. I was not before, but I am _now_.”

Liquid bared his teeth. “I’ve _always_ been disgusting. But at least this time I had a choice in the matter.”

“You are confused and he is manipulating you.”

“You’re paranoid and- overprotective.”

“Don’t I have a right to be after what happened?! I thought I lost you!!”

There was a long, furious pause. Somewhere nearby, a petrel cried.

Mantis jerked his head to the side, looking out over the ocean instead of at Liquid. “I am going to be away for the next few days,” he said, his voice controlled once more, “in the Middle East. I expect you to behave yourself while I am gone.”

Liquid rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“And _stay away_ from Ocelot.”

Liquid didn’t reply, and he didn’t listen.

* * *

“Ocelot, can I have a talk with you about something personal?”

Ocelot glanced at Quiet, who was standing nearby. “Sure, Boss.”

“What’s this I’m hearing about Eli spending the night in your quarters? Last night, and the night before that…”

“Oh,” Ocelot said, “he came to see me.”

“To exchange words?”

“Well, to exchange _something_ anyway…”

Quiet got Ocelot’s drift before Venom did, and with a very affronted expression gave Ocelot two thumbs down. Venom blinked.

“You mean you and Eli…? Don’t you think you’re-“ he paused, “a little old for him?”

“He is an adult. And none of it was my idea, I was just giving him what he wanted.”

Quiet shook her head, and Venom seemed to get what she was thinking. “Ocelot, I doubt he’s back in a clear mental state yet after what happened.”

“Are you worried about him?”

“…”

Ocelot shrugged noncommittally. “He’s working things out for himself right now, and I suspect he fixated on me because I was the first friendly face he’d seen in a three and a half years. It could be worse, Boss. He could have fallen for you, instead.”

Venom and Quiet exchanged glances. Quiet looked wholly unamused.

“Well,” Venom said at length, “he is an adult. Just… be careful with him.”

“I’m always careful,” Ocelot smiled.

* * *

Meanwhile, in southern Iraq.

Mantis didn’t want to leave Liquid alone at Mother Base, especially not now, but he felt the irresistible pull of Liquid’s - almost buried in shame - desire for revenge combined with his _own_ need to _protect_ Liquid and prove to the world that anyone who hurt him would pay dearly at Mantis’ hand, and after two-ish weeks of not acting on it it had started manifesting as an almost physical sensation, an itch, a burn under Mantis’ skin.

So he’d pulled the location of the Iraqi insurgents’ camp from Venom’s mind and set out to find them. The sun had just set by time he was starting to get within range, which meant it was already well dark at Mother Base. Time for those not on evening or night shifts to get to bed — which included Liquid - and Ocelot.

Mantis wondered what Liquid was doing right now. Not heeding his advice to stay away from Ocelot, that was for sure. Probably sucking his dick again. Or maybe biting his own knuckles as he got railed from behind. Getting fucked senseless as Ocelot pressed his fingers against the still-healing wound that _he_ had given Liquid in the first place until Liquid was whining and dizzy from pain blended with arousal and confusedly thinking mostly of being brutalized in a prison camp.

It made Mantis _sick_.

He landed, trying to push the thought out of his mind. He could deal with Ocelot later - surely, eventually Liquid would realize that what he had going on with the man was, in fact, unbelievably degrading and predatory, and then Mantis would be free to get rid of him without Liquid getting upset. But for now he didn’t want to upset Liquid. Liquid was having a hard enough time adjusting to Mantis’ new personality _without_ Mantis taking any drastic actions.

And Mantis was already set out here _to_ take a rather drastic action.

When the insurgents had found one morning that their POW had disappeared from his cell during the night, they had assumed he had escaped, and probably bled out in the desert somewhere. Because of that, they felt tentatively secure in staying in the same abandoned village they’d dug their heels in at for the past four years, presuming that any raid would still be prevented by their enemies _assuming_ that they still had their prisoner(s).

This made things much easier for Mantis. He wasn’t great at tracking people down if he didn’t have access to anyone who _already_ knew where they went.

He walked into their camp and with a wave of his hand stopped their bullets and twisted their guns, then brought them all to heel in front of him. There were about thirty men, some as young as Mantis, others closer to Venom or Ocelot’s age. A quick glance through their minds and Mantis pinpointed the dozen or so that had participated in Liquid’s gang-rape - although in his eyes, _all_ were guilty, even if it was only of looking the other way.

And they would all face justice.

He crossed his arms and cast a cold eye over the men kneeling in front of him until they settled down, their confusion and panic eventually giving way to mute terror and awe. Finally, Mantis spoke, in Arabic.

“You all assumed wrong about the pilot’s escape. He still lives. He is thousands of miles away from here now, and _safe_.”

There was a heavy silence.

“And,” Mantis continued, “I know what you _did_ to him.”

There was a ripple of fear among the insurgents. Most were wondering just who the hell Mantis was, and how he was related to the former prisoner. Some felt regret or remorse. Some felt relief - _they_ hadn’t been among the ones who had tortured the pilot. Mantis narrowed his eyes.

He pointed at the youngest man in the camp. He had only been sixteen when he got caught up with this group. “You.”

“M-M-M-Me?”

“Stand up, Gabir. Come here.”

He hesitated, and with a lazy curl of his fingers Mantis forced his legs to move, to stand and walk up to him.

“You always felt sympathy for the pilot,” Mantis said, “you did your best to be kind to him and to keep him relatively healthy.”

“Y-Yes,” the young man said, staring determinedly at the sand beneath his feet.

“It’s likely he would have died without you, and for that I thank you.” The young man glanced up at Mantis, not quite daring to hope that Mantis would turn him loose. “But…” His hope evaporated. “…you never tried to _stop_ any of it. You are a coward, and through your cowardice you are complicit.” Mantis looked back at the still-kneeling men. “You all are.”

He snapped his fingers and the man standing in front of him collapsed, his heart stopped.

“That,” Mantis announced as panic started to rise in the crowd again, “was an example of my mercy. He died quickly and painlessly. And he is the _only one_ I extend my mercy _to_.”

“God save us,” a soldier wailed, and he was one of the rapists and Mantis’ blood went from ice to _boiling_ in an instant. His hand clenched. The man who had just spoke gagged, stumbling to his feet.

His head tilted back, his mouth opening impossibly wide; with an ugly _crack_ his jaw wrenched itself out of place, and the skin at the corners of his mouth began tearing gamily. He clawed at his throat, tears running down his cheeks to mix with his streaming blood, and a visible lump worked its way up his neck — with more choked retching sounds, something red and slimy, oozing blood and stringy with viscera, started crawling out of his mouth.

He hunched forward, his ribcage crunching audibly as his torso started collapsing in on itself. His organs strung out of his mouth to throb on the sand, puddling blood and bile around his knees, and he clutched at them with his hands on some confused instinct, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Gkk- Gaagk— hhk-!!“

More snapping, popping sounds as his legs suddenly broke in a hundred places, twisting inhumanly. He fell to the ground, catching himself with his hands, still vomiting up his own meat. His bones moved under his skin, slowly trawling up his body until they stabbed through his cheeks, stark and bloody, leaving his legs nothing more than empty tubes of skin and shredded muscle.

The same thing happened with his arms, bones crunching up to tiny pieces and migrating to his mouth, and he rolled around on the sand, his back bending weirdly. He’d stopped making noise entirely, apart from the sound of his body itself, like wet gravel and ground beef. His bones and innards continued to pour out of his throat like they were being pulled by an invisible hand. His eyeballs squeezed into his superior nasal fissure and squelched out of his mouth as jelly. Urine ran down the side of his face as his bladder was torn apart by his own teeth.

The last thing out of his mouth was his brain, which slipped gelatinously out of his gaping red maw and finally killed him. He was nothing more than a sack of skin with a skull, a horribly dislocated jaw, and a gory pile of what had once been a human being next to that.

There was complete and utter silence. Except for Mantis’ heavy breathing rasping through his mask.

He looked up from his handiwork to the other insurgents, still trapped on the ground in front of him by his psychic powers. None of them dared to say a word this whole time.

“Now…” Mantis said finally, in a voice much calmer than he felt, “who is next?”

* * *

Liquid was loitering in an isolated corner of the command platform when Mantis returned. Liquid raised his eyebrows at him.

“You’ve a bit of blood on your mask,” he said, reaching out halfway to wipe it off, then changing his mind and merely indicating where it was on his own face.

Mantis wiped it off, frowning behind the mask. Liquid frowned too. He saw the look in Mantis’ eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” he said.

“You have every intention of ending up in Ocelot’s bed again tonight, don’t you?”

Liquid didn’t reply, just looked away.

“…Eli, can you at least- keep in mind that just because you initiate does not mean that he can do whatever he likes with you?”

“Can you not read my memories?” Liquid said, still not looking at him. “It’s… embarrassing.”

“I just want to make sure he does not harm you further.”

“It really isn’t any of your business.”

Mantis bit back his frustration. “I do not trust him with you.”

“You’ve established this,” Liquid said, “thoroughly.”

“…”

“What does it matter to you, anyway?” Liquid grumbled, “I ought to be able to choose who I sleep with without your input.”

“Eli, _he r_ -“ Mantis cut himself off, then tried again, less heatedly, “that would normally be the case, but Ocelot—“

“I’m sure you’d be acting like this even if it were someone else. You wouldn’t trust _anyone_ else with me.”

“No one else has ever given me _reason_ to trust them with you,” Mantis snapped, “people have done nothing but _hurt you_ all your life!”

“I’m not sure that’s true anymore.”

Mantis’ hands clenched and unclenched. He wasn’t sure how to handle this - _any_ of this, but the way Liquid was piecing his world back together was just so… _different_ from how Mantis would have expected it. Where was his rage? his resentment?

Where was _his_ Eli?

And how dare he wonder this, when Liquid was watching Mantis’ body language out of the corner of his eye and wondering where all this rage and resentment and _possessiveness_ had come from, and wondering where the Mantis who had once been his other half had gone.

“I’ve decided to join Outer Heaven,” he said, finally tearing his gaze away. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I will.”

“Mantis—“

“No, I am not leaving you. I _can’t_. Not after everything.”

“Even Ocelot?”

“I don’t care about Ocelot - he hurt you but as long as you won’t permit me to raise a hand against him then I _won’t_. I can tolerate him if you are that attached to him, Eli, I just-“

“Mantis, you don’t-“

“ _Eli_ ,” Mantis said, and there was an emotional little tremor in his voice that he couldn’t stand, “I do not want- I— you— you still _need_ me, Eli, I cannot leave you again.”

Liquid absently scratched at his stomach. “I need you?” he said, “are you sure it isn’t the other way around, Mantis?”

“Does it matter if it is?!”

“You deserve better,” Liquid said in a very quiet voice. “I’ve been ruined. I’m damaged goods. I’m not worth anything anymore, _if_ I ever was.”

“Eli, that is not-“

“Don’t degrade yourself like this, Mantis. Don’t keep yourself bound to me like this.”

“Eli…”

“I’m… sorry, Mantis.”

He walked off. Mantis followed for a few steps, then stopped. He had no idea what to say. None. Liquid didn’t even know what he wanted to _hear_. Looking in his mind, Mantis only saw a chaos of confusion and despair, and he wondered if Liquid’s mind wasn’t reflected perfectly in his own right now, just as it had been when they were children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (rip our boy gabir -pp)


	5. Chapter 5

“A-Ahh— ghn, O-Ocelot - slow d-down… d-don’t be so r-rough… mnngh—”

“Hm?” Ocelot leaned close against his ear, watching his face out of the corner of his eye. Liquid was chewing on his lower lip between gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head, color high in his cheeks. “Is this too much for you?”

“I-I-I just w-want you to— ohh— b-be a l-little bit gent-le- _aaah!_ Ah, fuck…!”

Liquid moaned helplessly in Ocelot’s lap, arms pinned behind his back against Ocelot’s chest. Ocelot was pumping up into him, every thrust enough to make him shudder between the merciless pounding against his prostate and the fact that his ass was _already_ sore from the spanking Ocelot had given him before fucking him. (Hey, he was fifty years old and an incurable sadist. There were only so many ways he could get it up.)

“G-God, Ocelot, y-you’re going to split me i-in half…”

The abdominal wound Ocelot had given him had largely healed by now, to the point where he no longer needed a bandage and had been given the go-ahead to start building his muscle mass back up. Ocelot traced a finger over it. Holding Liquid from behind, head resting on his shoulder - from this angle, the scar on his stomach looked like a V.

“Ah… mmn… O-Ocelot, it hurts…”

“Does it?”

“I-I don’t like th-this…”

“Do you want me to stop?” Ocelot whispered in his near.

“No, n-no, don’t s-stop! K-Keep going!”

“Mmm.”

“J-Just… n-not so ha—“

Ocelot tipped him over, repositioning them with Liquid’s face pressed against the mattress and his hand on the back of Liquid’s neck. Liquid clutched at the sheets, his muffled moans getting louder as Ocelot penetrated him even deeper.

“O-Oh god… Ocelot, stop… خلاص… لا تلمسني…”

He pretended he didn’t hear him, and Liquid didn’t question it.

Afterwards Ocelot would pet his hair, kiss him, and call him a good boy. All things considered it really was the bare minimum of affection, but Liquid was absolutely starved for it and Ocelot suspected that that was the real reason he kept coming back - not as some kind of misaimed coping strategy, and certainly not out of any genuine feeling for Ocelot himself. Or at least, not wholly.

The next morning Mantis would inevitably be skulking around when Ocelot exited his quarters, leaving Liquid alone and naked under a blanket wherever he happened to fall asleep, be it in his bed or on the floor or against a wall. He never said anything. He just glared, Ocelot’s silent judge.

* * *

There was a girl about eighteen years old in the shooting range that Liquid borrowed a pistol from. She was pretty, with long viridescent blonde hair under a loose headscarf, and Liquid was fairly certain he’d seen her hanging around with Quiet before.

She introduced herself as Sniper Wolf, explained that Venom (or Saladin, as she and quite a lot of the other soldiers called him) had picked her up a few years ago from a besieged village in Kurdistan, and said, “aren’t you Ocelot’s boytoy?”

Liquid frowned. “Is that what my reputation amounts to now?” That was probably worse than just being Mother Base’s local uncooperative, unstable brat…

“He is twice your age… more than it, in fact, I heard you are only 22.”

“22 is more than old enough to make my own decisions,” Liquid said sourly, lining up his shot. “And I was a child soldier, I’ve never in my life had the _opportunity_ to be naïve, so if you’re another one who thinks Ocelot is only taking advantage of me-“

“Oh,” she said, “no. I think it is strange, but I also think that Ocelot would not do that. He’s a good man.”

Liquid fired. Wolf picked up a pair of binoculars and looked at his target.

“You are pulling to the right.”

He adjusted his aim and fired again.

“Much better.”

“You really think Ocelot’s a good man?” Liquid said. There was a touch of… uncertainty in his voice.

Wolf blinked, then shrugged. “When I first got here,” she said, “I demanded training. I wanted revenge on the world for the slaughter of my people - I still do. But I was only fourteen, and Saladin was… hesitant about allowing me to learn anything I might find useful to that end. Ocelot argued for me. He convinced Quiet to teach me, and for Saladin to give his consent to that.”

“I assume that worked out well, judging by your codename,” Liquid said.

“Oh, yes. I am the best sniper in my combat team.”

Liquid dumped the rest of the magazine into the target. Wolf checked again with her binoculars.

“Slightly to the left now,” she said. “I heard you were rescued from a POW camp. How long were you there?”

“…over three years.”

“Ah, that explains your aim. Out of practice, are you?”

“Much better than I was when I first got here.” He put in a new magazine. “Why did Ocelot argue for you?”

“I don’t know, he never gave me a reason. Maybe he did not have one. Maybe he empathized with me,” Wolf said. “But it was because of him that Quiet trained me. And because of that, I can make myself useful around here.”

“Maybe it was simple pragmatism.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as he took another few shots. “You seem to have a surprisingly low opinion of him, considering your… relationship.”

“There isn’t much of a _relationship_ between us,” Liquid said. “He doesn’t… mean anything to me.”

Wolf gave him an extremely perplexed look. “If it is just about sleeping with someone, then why Ocelot? Why not someone closer to your age? There are plenty of other men in Outer Heaven that I am sure would be willing to share a bed with you.”

“…”

He fired again, and Wolf, after scrutinizing him out of the corner of her eye for a second or two, checked his target again. “Right in the center this time, Liquid.”

* * *

They didn’t need to share a bed when Ocelot could pin Liquid against the wall and Liquid wouldn’t resist the move, even when his knees buckled and he could barely stand.

“A-Ahhhh, ow, ow, ow- Ocelot—“

“What are you complaining about now, Liquid?” Ocelot said, nipping at his earlobe.

“Th-this isn’t a good angle for m-me…”

Ocelot reaffirmed his grip on Liquid’s hips and forced himself a little deeper. Liquid hissed dazedly, tensing.

“Better?” Ocelot said.

“N-No! That’s- oh- tha-that’s worse!!”

He tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position but Ocelot caught him by the throat. He made a strangled gasp, grabbing Ocelot’s wrist tightly. But he didn’t push him away. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough yet.

Maybe he didn’t realize he could.

* * *

“Eli, do you mind if we have a word about something private?”

Liquid opened his mouth to snap at the use of his given name, then decided against it. “No, Boss. What is it?”

“Your relationship with Ocelot.”

Liquid blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching in a momentary frown, then glanced around. Of course there was no one else nearby - why would Venom approach him to talk about such a delicate topic if someone else were nearby? - but he couldn’t guarantee that Venom wasn’t recording. Didn’t he do that? Record his conversations to listen to later, so he wouldn’t forget what was said? Well, maybe he’d stopped doing that over the past ten years…

“Why do you want to talk with me about _that?_ ”

“I just think it’s an unusual situation you’ve put yourself in - and that you might want to talk to someone unbiased.”

“Unbiased?”

Venom sighed. “Your friend Psycho Mantis isn’t very happy about what’s going on. All of Outer Heaven knows it.”

“Oh.” Liquid shifted his weight uncomfortably. “If it’s a problem, I can talk to him about it—“

“You’ve already talked to him about it, haven’t you?”

“…yes.”

“…he and Ocelot didn’t get along while they were in the KGB together. Ocelot told me about it a few years ago. Called him a ‘twitchy little handful’.”

Again Liquid blinked. He hadn’t known that, but then again it really wasn’t surprising. “So you think he’s really just acting like this because he disliked Ocelot to begin with.”

“That could be it. But at the same time, Eli, I know what Ocelot did to you when he was infiltrating the prison camp…”

Liquid’s eyes widened, and he took half a step back. “You- he—“

“He practically gutted you. I’m surprised you trust him enough to… involve yourself with him like this.”

“…” _Oh_ , Liquid thought, feeling oddly relieved and frustrated at the same time, _Ocelot probably didn’t tell_ anyone _what_ else _he did_.

“Eli?”

“Wh-… er, what?”

“I don’t want to think Ocelot has any ulterior motives here, but he is… lonely. I’m sure he appreciates your company even if Psycho Mantis is throwing a fit about it. So if you’re…” he paused to search for a word, “…having any second thoughts, and want to talk it out with someone who will tell you honestly what he thinks is best for you, not just what his personal feelings are, then…”

“Why are you even concerning yourself with this?” Liquid said, doing his best not to sound defensive. He wasn’t sure if it worked or not.

Venom didn’t say anything, although his unchanging expression seemed somehow like an answer in and of itself.

“…I can handle myself, Boss,” Liquid said, and he definitely did sound bitter.

“I’m not saying you can’t,” Venom said.

“Then let me sort this out myself. I don’t need anyone’s advice.”

“I wasn’t implying you did. I’m just telling you that if you want someone to vent to, I’m here.”

Liquid gave him an uncertain, uncomfortable look. All things considered, he had nothing to do with Venom apart from reporting to him - which, technically, he didn’t even do yet as he was still in recovery. What the hell did any of this matter to _him?_

He took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll waste your time, Boss.”

“…”

* * *

It was easiest to wreck Liquid’s composure by fingering him. Ocelot didn’t even need to figure that out - he assumed it from the beginning and was wholly unsurprised when it turned out he was right. One finger, two, curl and scrape, jab his prostate, watch as his back arched and he moaned around the fingers of Ocelot’s other hand, rudely shoved into his mouth with an order to suck.

He had his eyes shut tight and Ocelot knew that he’d honestly forgotten where he was, that he was on an offshore platform near Seychelles and not a POW camp in Iraq. He pretended he didn’t. It was easy to do that when his thin, pleading whines could have meant _anything_ , and when his shaking hands tore at the sheets on Ocelot’s bed instead of Ocelot himself.

His hips bucked helplessly as his climax tore through him, semen splashing across his stomach - up to his chest - without Ocelot ever having to directly touch his dick. Ocelot removed his fingers from his mouth - Liquid panted harshly, barely aware of that - but not his ass, continuing to torment him, well aware that he was the type that got oversensitive instead of numb.

“O-Oce-… ghnn… Ocelot…”

Ocelot licked the semen and sweat off his skin, moving up slowly, tonguing a nipple. Liquid squirmed and Ocelot held him in place with his free hand on his hip.

“Ocelot,” Liquid breathed, his eyes still shut, “e-enough. That’s en— aaah- hhn…”

He pulled Ocelot’s hair, whining deep in his throat. Ocelot curled his fingers again, and his hips jerked.

“Oh, god!”

“Do you like that?” Ocelot murmured against his chest.

Liquid shook his head. “O-Ocelot, I, I, I-I’m spent a-already, this is- this is— it’s p-painful… i-it’s too much…”

“Overwhelmed? Already?”

“Y-Yes—! I mean, n-no, I- _no_ — just l-let me rest a m-minute…”

Ocelot’s fingers stilled like he was considering it, then he pushed them in a bit deeper, and Liquid yowled.

* * *

Ten years ago Liquid had known all the places on Mother Base where he could hide away and brood by himself without anyone bothering him. Some of those places were only big enough to fit a child (or, specifically, two children, one of whom could float), and a lot of the other ones had disappeared along with the construction scaffolding, but there were a few that Liquid could still hole himself up in without being bothered. Judging by the accumulated salt and miscellaneous grime, he was still the only one who knew about them.

Well, him and Mantis.

Mantis insisted on staying by Liquid’s side despite Liquid telling him to just go, and for reasons Liquid couldn’t explain it felt like glass grinding into his bones. It only got worse if Mantis tried to justify himself.

“I do not stay because of pity, Eli.”

“Just… I know you’re thinking about what happened.”

“So are you, as much as you try not to. Nightmares again last night…”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mantis.”

“Denial isn’t healthy.”

“I _said_ I don’t want to talk about it.”

Obviously Ocelot wasn’t the only one who realized that Liquid was desperate for affection. And while he felt Ocelot was taking advantage of that fact to keep Liquid coming back to his quarters, and hated him for doing that, he wasn’t above using it either, trying to coax Liquid away from Ocelot with gentle words and soft touches.

So Liquid would lie with his head in Mantis’ bony lap, or with his back against Mantis’ chest and Mantis’ arms around his shoulders or waist, and Mantis would control his temper and they would just talk.

“Making friends, are you?”

“Mm?”

“The girl from the shooting range, Wolf. You seem to get along with her.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“That’s good.” Mantis brushed his hand over Liquid’s hair, vaguely wondering how long it would take for it to grow back out to his preferred length. “It is better if you spend time with people other than me… or _him_.”

“Let’s not talk about him, Mantis.”

“Of course.” He changed the subject. “You should be less surprised that Venom is concerned about your wellbeing.”

Liquid sighed. “It’s his job to be at least mildly concerned about the wellbeing of everyone in Outer Heaven.”

“And you in particular…?”

“…I don’t know.”

“He does have some regret about the way things happened ten years ago…”

“…hm.”

Mantis ran a finger over Liquid’s stomach, where he knew hidden under his shirt was a V-shaped scar. He tried not to think about how Ocelot would do the same thing.

Whenever Mantis’ hands slipped too far down Liquid’s torso, Liquid would unconsciously tilt his hips in a way that made Mantis’ chest feel tight. Not only because he hated to see how- far Liquid had fallen, how far he had been _dragged_ against his will, but also because it reminded him that he couldn’t compete with Ocelot. Not in this arena. Not where this was concerned.

He couldn’t even bring himself to tell Liquid what he’d gradually found he wanted to hear.

* * *

Liquid watched Ocelot dress through half-lidded eyes, unsure if Ocelot knew he was awake or not. There were long, angry red scrapes across Ocelot’s back, marks that Liquid had made without thinking, just scrabbling, just screaming. Liquid supposed that they hurt but Ocelot didn’t give any indication of it.

As Liquid watched, a drop of blood welled in one of them and trickled down Ocelot’s pale skin, tracing along his spine.

He felt something.

He wasn’t sure what it was - some emotion he’d forgotten the name of - but as he watched Ocelot bleed, he felt… _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of random Arabic phrases... "Don't touch me" and "Stop"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (double update today because why not it's saturday -pp)

Liquid wriggled out of Ocelot’s grasp and shoved him off the bed, pinning him down with his bare ass pressed against Ocelot’s hips and his fingers wrapped around Ocelot’s throat. Ocelot’s eyes widened only slightly, like he had been expecting this, and he covered Liquid’s hands with his own but didn’t try to pull them away from his neck.

“You’re spirited all of a sudden,” he said.

Liquid was breathing hard. “I-“ he said, his voice a low growl caught somewhere in his throat, “I _felt_ s-something last night, Ocelot.”

“I should hope so, Liquid.”

“N-No. I don’t mean literally. Emotionally. I’ve b-been numb this whole time, Ocelot, but that’s- _over_.”

He squeezed. Ocelot choked. It only lasted a moment. They only needed that much time for Ocelot’s cock to start stiffening. Sometimes Ocelot almost forgot he was also a masochist…

“G-Good,” Liquid whispered as Ocelot wheezed, eyes wide as he shifted his hips from side to side, grinding against Ocelot’s erection. “Clothes. Off. N-Now.”

“—we have all night,” Ocelot pointed out, catching his breath.

Liquid shook his head. “Now. I w-want it _now_ , you goddamn tease.”

“You’re going to have to let me up, first.”

It was an obvious trap but Liquid’s mind was clouded with excitement and arousal and too-intense emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He relented, and Ocelot had them flipped in an instant, the back of Liquid’s head hitting the floor hard as Ocelot gripped his wrists and placed himself between Liquid’s thighs.

“You know I like it better when you sit still,” Ocelot said in a soft voice.

Liquid growled. “Y-You mean like the time you f-fucking _raped_ me, Ocelot? Like that? Do you w-want me to be still like _that?_ ”

“You’re hysterical.”

“Y-You’re a sick fuck.” He twisted his body, hooking the back of one leg around Ocelot’s neck and slamming the side of his head into the floor, then scrambled away, standing. Ocelot looked up at him, his expression rather neutral, rubbing his jaw.

There was a glint in his eye, the same glint that he had had back in Iraq, when he had painfully fingered Liquid, sliced him open, and whispered in his ear that no one was coming for him.

If Liquid noticed it then it wasn’t on a conscious level. He stared at Ocelot, eyes wild, panting, sweating, fists clenched, cock stiff and twitching. “Strip,” he said. “N-Now.”

“You’re this desperate, Liquid?”

“I didn’t ask you to speak!”

Ocelot shrugged, then took his damn sweet time taking his clothes off. Liquid got impatient before Ocelot had even finished removing his shirt, and stepped closer and grabbed him by the hair, dragging his head towards his crotch.

“I’ve decided,” he said in a harsh whisper, “that tonight _you’re_ going to be sucking _my_ cock, n-not the other way around.”

“Does this make you feel better about what I did?” Ocelot said, reaching up and stroking it with one finger, without hesitation. Liquid shivered, his grip on Ocelot’s hair tightening.

“L-Less talk, Ocelot, more s-sucking.”

Ocelot stood on his knees and, again without hesitation, ran his tongue over Liquid’s dick, and Liquid’s breathing hitched and he tugged on Ocelot’s hair again. Ocelot looked up, trying to gauge Liquid’s expression - Liquid tilted his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes, biting his lip. His hips jerked as he felt Ocelot’s lips on him, then _around_ him, and he thrust into his mouth, moaning.

Ocelot handled it nicely, running his hands up the inside of Liquid’s thighs — then jumping them to where Liquid had both of his hands tangled in Ocelot’s hair and gripping his wrists tightly, pulling hard, knocking Liquid off balance. Again he trapped Liquid between himself and the floor, pinning his arms underneath him.

Liquid squirmed. “F-F-Fuck… O-Ocelot…”

“It was a good effort,” Ocelot said, “but you let down your guard.” He unzipped his pants, and Liquid’s struggling renewed. Ocelot put a hand on his neck. “I told you to sit still, bitch,” he said, switching to Arabic.

Liquid froze, his eyes snapping open as far as they would go. “No…” he whispered hoarsely in same, “don’t…”

Ocelot’s grip on Liquid’s throat tightened just enough that his eyes unfocused and he clumsily bucked his hips up against Ocelot, rutting against his thigh. He whimpered.

 _God_ , Ocelot loved that sound.

He unceremoniously fucked Liquid on the floor with not nearly enough lubrication, and Liquid met each thrust, caterwauling like an animal in heat. And afterwards Ocelot pet his hair, kissed him, and called him a good boy, and Liquid hung on every word.

* * *

“Morning, Boss.”

Venom glanced at him. He had a bruise on his cheek. “Ocelot.”

“Eli’s got a lot more energy now than he did when he first came here. Now’s as good a time as any to assign him to a combat team.”

Venom nodded. He appreciated the information, although he really didn’t want to think about how Ocelot got it in the first place.

* * *

“Call it off with him.”

“Mantis-“

“No. Call it off with him. I am very glad that you are not _numb_ anymore, but this is not an acceptable outlet for your anger.”

Liquid glared at him, sitting up. “I think I’m the one who decides that, Mantis, not you.”

Mantis narrowed his eyes briefly, then closed them, taking a deep breath and willing himself to stay calm and not push Liquid on the defensive. “I am worried about you.”

“For whatever reason. You made this clear, yes.”

“Eli,” Mantis said, pulling Liquid back to him with his arms around his waist, one hand directly over where his V-shaped scar was, “he has already hurt you badly enough. If you keep escalating the situation, sooner or later it is going to happen again.” His arms tightened. “I _can’t_ let that happen, Eli.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to stop me,” Liquid muttered.

Mantis growled. “Why do you keep coming back to him?”

“Excuse me? You’re the psychic, you tell me.”

“He hardly showers you with affection, he only shows you the _bare minimum_ needed to keep you from realizing what he is _doing_ to you.”

Liquid rolled his eyes.

“And what is he doing that _I_ am not?” He nuzzled Liquid’s neck, a surprisingly gentle move for how aggressively he framed it. “He never holds you like I do.”

“You never fuck me like he does.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. “I was not aware,” Mantis said icily, his gas mask still pressed up against Liquid’s throat, “that that was even on the table.”

“It… just now occured to me,” Liquid said awkwardly. “I, er, spoke without thinking, Mantis. Forget I said anything.”

“Hm.”

“I know you don’t… like…”

“Is it me you want, Eli?” Mantis said in a low voice, feeling sick to his stomach, trying to sort through the ashamed, bewildered _Why the hell did I say that?_ s in Liquid’s mind.

“I… no, Mantis, just forget it.”

Mantis closed his eyes, his face still resting against Liquid’s neck. No. He couldn’t compete with Ocelot in this arena, he already knew that. Liquid had desires, _needs_ , instincts that he didn’t even realize he was allowing to consume him from inside out, and as much as Mantis thought it would be better for _him_ to be the one to handle them and _not Ocelot_ , he knew there was no way he could bring himself to do it. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day he’d be able to force himself, but he couldn’t see it happening any time soon.

Even if it was what Liquid hoped for.

“Do yourself a favor,” Mantis said softly, “and next time you’re choking him, do not stop.”

Liquid didn’t reply. A moment later, Wolf’s head appeared over the edge of the platform right above them, her hair hanging down.

“How did you two even get down here?” she said.

“Climbed,” Liquid said simply.

She blinked at them. Mantis rolled his eyes in irritation.

“Do not assume such crass things about us.”

“I did not know that you two were a couple,” she said despite being pre-empted, “but this does explain why you’re so upset about Ocelot, Mantis.”

“We are _not_ a couple and _no_ , I am not _jealous_. I am _concerned_.”

“Do you need something, Wolf?” Liquid said, not even bothering to acknowledge the ostensibly platonic cuddling he was currently engaging in.

Wolf smirked. “Saladin has finally assigned you to a combat team,” she said.

Liquid sat up again. “Really?”

“Yes, on Ocelot’s recommendation. And I suppose this means that the medical team gave their approval as well.”

“Excellent. Which team?”

“A through S rank, unit two.”

“The same one you are in,” Mantis said.

“Oh,” Liquid said, grinning boyishly. It felt like a long time since Mantis had seen Liquid smile like this…

“Yes,” Wolf said, “so you need to go talk to the team leader, Flaming Buffalo, sometime today. She will get you situated and such.”

Liquid stood up, smoothing his pants. “I’ll go do that right now.”

Wolf disappeared, and after a conflicted glance at Mantis, Liquid left as well. Mantis stayed put, looking out over the ocean and watching the gannets wheel over it.

* * *

Liquid was inordinately tempted to flee to Ocelot’s quarters and put off his first night in the combat unit platform men’s barracks he’d been assigned to, perhaps indefinitely, but he was annoyed with himself for even _considering_ that so he walked into that first night with his head held high.

Like hell he was going to let anyone push him around.

Even when everyone seemed to immediately recognize him mostly as the kid Revolver Ocelot was fucking.

“Christ, not this again…” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. Why did _the whole base_ know about that? Was that Mantis’ fault? Or had Ocelot talked? He doubted either of them would take credit for it…

“Hey, he’s not _just_ Commander Ocelot’s boytoy,” chuckled one of the guys, Punching Crab, “he’s also supposed to be Big Boss’ son.”

“Isn’t Big Boss sterile?” said Mellow Zebra.

“My parentage is not to be discussed, thank you,” Liquid said dryly. “Which bed is mine?”

“You’re bunking with me,” said Doom Kangaroo, one of the older guys here. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m on the top bunk. Are we going to have a problem with that, Eli?”

“Don’t call me Eli. My codename is Liquid Snake, call me Liquid. And no, I don’t mind the bottom bunk.”

Razor Turkey leered at him. “No problem bottoming, eh? You prefer it that way?”

Liquid very pointedly looked him up and down, then gave him an extremely unimpressed look. “Say what you will, but at least _I_ can get laid.”

Punching Crab laughed uproariously and slapped Liquid on the back. (Liquid stiffened. He did _not_ like being touched.) “I _like_ this kid!”

“I’m not a kid,” Liquid said sourly, stepping away from him. He glanced around. “I’m not even the youngest one here.” The one who had been introduced to him as Brittle Mockingbird looked only about nineteen. “Nor am I the youngest one on my combat team,” he added, since Wolf was a full four years younger than him.

“True,” said Mellow Zebra, “but you are awfully skinny.”

“Give me a few weeks and I can wipe the floor with you.”

Doom Kangaroo shook his head. “You haven’t changed at all in the last ten years, have you? …at least now you won’t be able to get away with throwing Molotov cocktails at the Boss. Commander Miller was _far_ too lenient with you back then.”

“Molotov cocktails…?” Razor Turkey said, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Eh… Liquid, aren’t you the one who took Pouncing Harrier prisoner back in the day?” said Sly Ibex. “Although I suppose if you hadn’t done that, she never would have ended up at Mother Base, so…”

“How am I supposed to remember that?” Liquid said, “that was ten years ago.”

Sly Ibex shrugged. “She left six years ago, not long after I joined. Hell of a woman, though.”

“Didn’t she leave because she got pregnant?” said Violet Rabbit thoughtfully. “I wonder who did that…?”

“It was after Commander Miller left, right?” said the oldest man in the barrack, Jackal.

The conversation devolved to gossip and general shooting the shit after that, and gradually Liquid got comfortable. He could take or leave camaraderie, but it _was_ nice to know that he was finally getting back to what he felt best doing. Back to what he was _created_ to do.

* * *

“So how are you settling in to the combat unit?” Ocelot asked, curling his fingers against Liquid’s prostate. Liquid hissed through grit teeth, tugging hard at where Ocelot had tied his hands to the bedpost with a scarf.

“Th— ah- th-there was s-some catcalling a-and whistling when I l-left tonight to c-come here,” he panted, shifting his hips restlessly, “b-but o-other than… nn— mmgh, Ocelot…”

“But other than what?” Ocelot said, rubbing a thumb over Liquid’s cheek. Liquid jerked his head and snapped at him with his teeth, but Ocelot snatched his hand away just in time. “Talk to me, Liquid.”

“O-O-Other than that… n-no problems…”

“You’ve been getting along with everyone?”

“Y-Yes…”

“That’s good.” Liquid’s hips jerked up as Ocelot slipped in another finger.

“A-Aaaahh—! Oh god, O-Ocelot, take it out, th-three is too many!”

“You know I have _five_ fingers on my hand.”

He kicked Ocelot in the head.

“…I deserved that.”

“I-I ought to break y-your neck, Ocelot.”

“Been talking to Mantis lately, I see,” Ocelot said, his free hand gripping Liquid’s thigh and pushing it up until his knee was almost at his shoulder, giving Ocelot better access to his ass. “What is it between you and him, anyway?”

“Ah… hh… w-what?” Liquid said, dazed.

“When I fuck you, is it me you’re thinking about,” Ocelot said, forcing in a fourth finger, “or him?”

“O-Oh, oh god— too much, t-too much!”

He tried to twist his body away but Ocelot pinned him down with his weight. The scarf binding his hands was threatening to tear. Growling, whining, Liquid rocked himself against Ocelot’s hand - then tried to bite him again.

“ _Easy_ ,” Ocelot said, grabbing his jaw.

“Nggh…”

Ocelot searched his face, his red cheeks, his parted lips, his unfocused eyes — “You have such beautiful eyes, Liquid,” he said, moving his hand up to press his thumb under his right eye. Liquid barely reacted, just blinking, his attention more caught by the fingers in his ass.

“Really,” Ocelot said, “they’re lovely. Some of the clearest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“…?”

He forced Liquid’s eyelids apart with his thumb and forefingers, pushing the heel of his hand hard against Liquid’s cheek so he couldn’t move his head. Liquid’s breath caught in his throat.

“Ocelot? W-What are you d-doing?”

He pulled his lips back from his teeth as Ocelot shifted closer.

“O-Ocelot! What- a-aaah— a-are you—?!”

Slowly Ocelot dragged his tongue across the naked surface of Liquid’s eyeball.

“Aaagh!! Ocelot!! W-What the fuck?!”

Ocelot drew back, letting go of his face. Liquid blinked hard, tears forming in the eye Ocelot had just licked.

“W-What the hell??” he stammered.

Ocelot licked his lips. “Salty,” he purred.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i don't really intend to start a trend of updating twice on weekends, but since there were issues and stuff last time i updated this i'll just throw this out here -pp)

“You know, Liquid,” said Shadow Agama, a physician in the medical unit, “when I gave the Boss the go-ahead to put you on a combat team, I _really_ wasn’t expecting to see you here again a few days later.”

“Buffalo forced the issue,” Liquid said stiffly.

“Hm. Well, it’s definitely an infection alright,” she said, clicking the little diagnostic flashlight off and letting Liquid close his (red, watery, and effectively swollen shut) right eye again. “Can you think of anything you might have done to catch it?”

“…no.”

“That’s fine. I’ll put you on antibiotic eyedrops for now. Just drop by the medical platform twice a day until it clears up, and in the meantime,” she turned around and started rooting through a supply box, “a bandage over the affected eye should help with symptoms.”

“How long until it clears up?”

“Judging from how it looks now? About two weeks, maybe a little bit longer.” Shadow Agama handed him an eyepatch - one that was white and square and made of something soft, instead of being anything like Venom’s eyepatch - and Liquid, after frowning at it for a second, put it on. “Let me know immediately if it gets any worse. In my opinion it’s unlikely, but there _is_ a possibility that you could lose sight in that eye entirely.”

“Alright, I will. Er… thank you, Agama.”

“Just doing my job.”

And Liquid, upon exiting the examination room and find Mantis lurking outside, felt a hell of a lot less surprised than he probably should be.

“No comments, please,” he said brusquely, walking by and fiddling with his eyepatch.

“He went too far this time,” Mantis said, trailing behind him.

“How many times have I told you, Mantis, that what Ocelot and I do together is _private_ and I do _not_ want you reading my memories of it?”

“He licked your eyeball and gave you an infection,” Mantis said flatly. “That is… not normal, Eli.”

“It’s also not any of your business.”

Mantis made a frustrated sigh and drifted off somewhere else, deliberately silent. Liquid rolled his eyes. Eye. Eyes? It wasn’t like he could really _open_ his right eye, even with the eyepatch blocking the painful light out. And it would take two _weeks_ for this to clear up? _If_ it cleared up?

This was going to take a little getting used to…

* * *

“Finally settled on a direct confrontation, then?” Ocelot said, leaning against the railing, casually.

Mantis glowered at him. “You went _too far_ this time.”

“You’ve been getting bolder. I assume it’s related to Liquid’s change in attitude as of late…”

“Are you even listening to me?” Mantis snarled, “I could _tolerate_ bruises and minor cuts, but what if he loses sight in that eye?”

“That’s unlikely,” Ocelot said, raising an eyebrow.

“This is- completely unacceptable. Haven’t you done _enough_ to him? Are you not satisfied??”

“I don’t know what kind of view you have of our relationship, but he certainly… enjoys himself with it.”

Mantis twitched. “After what happened to him - after what _you_ participated in—“

“I only did it so he wouldn’t die in that prison camp.”

“That is an _excuse_ and we both know it.” His voice lowered dangerously. “Everyone _else_ who was complicit in that, I _killed_ , Ocelot.”

“Is that a threat, Mantis?”

“It’s something to consider.”

“Does Liquid know that?”

Mantis was silent. Ocelot narrowed his eyes slightly.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” he said.

“What conversation passes between Eli and I has nothing to do with you,” Mantis snapped.

“So you didn’t. …I see.”

“What does it matter?! That is beside the point!”

“You went awfully far out of your way for him. Why, it’s almost as if…”

“Don’t.”

“…you thought he weren’t capable of handling things himself? Is that it, Mantis? You think he’s _weak_ , you think he’s _fragile_ —“

“Stop talking, Ocelot.”

“You think he’s _damaged goods_.”

“I said _stop!!_ ” Mantis shouted, and the railing that Ocelot was leaning against twisted suddenly, its metal shearing, and fell away - Ocelot would have been able to keep his balance, of course, but it was like he was being buffeted by a strong wind, which flung him off the side of Mother Base and into the sea below.

“Commander Ocelot!” gasped one of the soldiers on the platform. Another one ran to grab a life preserver and toss it down after him. Another one grabbed his radio and spoke quickly into it: “We need someone from the base development unit to come to the intel platform, one of the railings just broke and…”

A small crowd gathered as Ocelot was retrieved from the ocean. (Fortunately for him, he was a strong swimmer - and more fortunately, Mantis had decided that he’d made his point for now.) Mantis himself just faded into the crowd, arms crossed, stonily silent. Liquid sidled up, having been summoned by the commotion.

He didn’t believe for a second that the railing had simply gave and that Ocelot had fallen when it did was a coincidence, or even really possible in the first place.

“If you are not going to fight your own battles,” Mantis said quietly, responding to Liquid’s thought, “then it’s only natural that I will fight them for you.”

“Mantis,” Liquid replied without even looking at him, “there isn’t a battle being fought here.”

* * *

Someone knocked on Ocelot’s office door. “Come in,” he said. He could use a distraction from all the paperwork… hell, his whole body _still_ hurt, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he wound up with an ear infection…

Ocelot smiled slightly when his visitor walked in, closing the door behind him. “Ah, Liquid. The eyepatch suits you. Do you need something?”

“A word,” he said stiffly, “about this morning…”

“The little… structural issue on the intel platform?”

Liquid wasn’t quite meeting Ocelot’s eyes. “Yes. Ocelot, you’re not stupid,” he said, “you know it wasn’t really a structural issue. It was Mantis’ doing…”

“Hm.” Ocelot rubbed the back of his neck, conspicuously. “I nearly broke my neck when I hit the water. That could be considered an attempt on my life.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m here.” He took a deep breath. “I know Mantis was acting on my behalf - or thought he was, anyway. I came to… to apologize on his behalf.”

Ocelot raised his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “What are you so worried about?”

“…”

“Liquid, as you said, I’m not stupid. I know you would never apologize, especially for someone else, if you didn’t have a goal in mind. Like say, protecting them from consequences.”

“I just don’t want you to tell anyone that it _was_ his fault,” Liquid said at length, “you haven’t said anything yet, have you?”

“Not yet.” He tapped a gloved finger against his chin, miming thought. “Interesting that you’d go out of your way to do this for him, when you’ve admitted that all you want him to do is return to his own life and forget about you.”

Again Liquid was silent. He was staring at the floor now, his posture still impeccable and his face inscrutable. God only knew what _exactly_ was running through his mind right now, but Ocelot felt he could make a pretty good guess.

He let him stew in his uncertainty and internal debate for almost a whole minute, then shrugged, settling into his chair with his knees lazily spread. “As long as he doesn’t try it again, Mantis attempting to murder me will be our little secret, Liquid.”

“…thank y-“

“ _If_ you come around to this side of the desk and show me how sorry you really are.”

Liquid nodded, unconsciously swallowing already.

On the other side of Mother Base, on the intel platform, Glacier Mongoose asked Mantis why his eye was twitching.

* * *

Still kneeling in the footwell of Ocelot’s desk, Liquid tried to catch his breath, scraping his tongue against his teeth. His throat and jaw ached and he really, really hated the taste of semen and just couldn’t get used to it. Or maybe he _was_ used to it, and that was precisely why he hated it.

He felt Ocelot’s hand on his head again, only this time it was softly petting his hair instead of holding him against his crotch.

“You did a good job,” Ocelot said.

Liquid leaned his head against Ocelot’s leg. He wondered how long Ocelot would let him hide in his office - going out and facing his comrades the morning after sucking an old man’s cock was very different from doing it five minutes after.

“Liquid, look at me.”

He did.

Ocelot searched his face for a moment, then said, “you really do look very good with that eyepatch.”

“Hm.”

He sighed, ruffling Liquid’s hair. “Listen. No matter what Mantis thinks,” Ocelot said gently, “just know that I do care about you. You mean the world to me. Do you understand that?”

Liquid nodded.

“Talk to me.”

“Yes, I understand…”

He closed his eye, feeling Ocelot’s fingers against his scalp.

“Good boy.”

* * *

“Do I have something on my face, Zebra?” Liquid said dryly.

Mellow Zebra (bed next to Liquid, bottom bunk) had been staring at him for what felt like the past ten full minutes. “Yeah,” he said, “an eyepatch.”

“ _Really?_ I hadn’t noticed.”

“You _do_ look like Big Boss.”

“He’s right,” said Brittle Mockingbird (top bunk), “you look _just_ like him, except, well, younger and clean-shaven and less scars and blond and shorter hair and no horn and-“

Doom Kangaroo leaned over the side of his bunk to give everyone below him the stinkeye. “Lights out was fifteen minutes ago, boys.”

“Yeah,” said Jackal from the other side of the hall between beds, “some of us old men need our sleep.”

“Hey, Commander Ocelot’s older than you,” said Violet Rabbit from the bed on the other side of Liquid’s, “and if how often Liquid sleeps in his quarters is anything to go by, _he_ doesn’t need that much sleep.” Liquid rolled his eyes. Eye.

“Commander Ocelot’s not human,” Sly Ibex said.

“I can totally see the family resemblance,” Brittle Mockingbird said to Liquid. “Although it’s a lot more obvious now that your eye is covered…”

“Same eye as Big Boss is missing, too,” Mellow Zebra said. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

“Yes,” Liquid said, frowning, “funny.”

What _was_ the relationship between Ocelot and his father, anyway?

“So you’re really Saladin’s son, Liquid?” Mad Tapir said, from the top bunk of Violet Rabbit’s bed.

“No.”

“There was a DNA test and everything,” Doom Kangaroo said, kicking back again with his arms behind his bed. “Now go to sleep.”

“Well, what about the _other_ Big Boss?” Violet Rabbit said, “the one who’s running an army unit in the United States…? What was it called again?”

“GRAYHOUND, wasn’t it?” said Mad Tapir. “Something like that.”

“FOXHOUND,” said Sly Ibex.

“That’s the one.”

“I thought he was sterile, too,” Mellow Zebra said.

“He was,” Jackal yawned, “go to sleep.”

“But Liquid can’t look _just like him_ by sheer _coincidence_ ,” Brittle Mockingbird insisted.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Liquid grumbled, yanking his blanket up almost to his forehead.

“But I mean it’s—“

“Oh my _god_ ,” Manic Saola yelled from the opposite corner of the room, “shut _up!_ ”

* * *

Liquid saluted as Venom walked by, mostly because that was just what soldiers did at Outer Heaven and he was long past the point of having a problem with it.

Venom nodded. “Morning, Eli.” Liquid was also long past the point of being _too_ bothered by Venom using his given name, although it was more a case of growing resigned as opposed to outright accepting it.

“Good morning,” he replied, “Fa-a— ah… um…”

Although he successfully resisted the urge to break position and cover his face with his hands, he could feel himself blushing furiously.

_Why, why_ , he thought, why _the fuck did I say that?!_ Probably because in the past three or so days since he’d gotten this _stupid_ eyepatch, he’d been getting constant comments about how he really must be Venom’s son after all, even if that wasn’t technically _true_ —

Oh god Quiet was laughing at him. Venom was staring.

“Er…”

“Were you about to call me ‘Father’?”

“I- I- no?”

“Is that really how you think of me…?”

Liquid kept his mouth shut, cringing. He didn’t trust himself not to say something stupid again.

“Because it’s fine if you do,” Venom said, “I might not be your real father, but—“

“No, it’s-“

“-after everything you’ve been through, I would… be proud to call you my son.”

There was a long pause. Liquid was pretty sure he went even redder, and he could feel tears pricking his functional eye - which was mostly the reason why he was embarrassed right now. He was ready to take back every time he’d ever gotten offended at someone saying he had daddy issues, because they were _plainly_ right.

Anyway, this was… abrupt.

“I, ah… I’m- flattered. Boss.”

Venom didn’t seem to know what to make of that answer. Quiet was still laughing to herself, hand over her mouth.

This was a disaster.

After an uncomfortable pause, Venom left, his expression slightly perplexed. Quiet gave Liquid a significant look, then followed Venom. Left alone, Liquid covered his face with one hand, taking a deep breath.

_Awkward_.

Maybe they could just pretend that that conversation had never happened? Liquid was good at that. Pretending things had never happened.

Still, though… even though Liquid was already an adult, it _was_ kind of nice - the prospect of a father, or a father figure, who actually tolerated his existence and… was proud of him.

_Ah, damn_ , Liquid realized, _I’m a mess._


	8. Chapter 8

1995.

Liquid was sitting on the edge of the combat platform, legs kicked out over the ocean, arms folded on the lower bar of a railing, head resting on his arms. He was staring out at the horizon, nothing in particular on his mind. He heard someone walk up behind him - Wolf, judging by the weight of their steps, not that he could ever tell her he thought that.

“Bored?” she said, sitting down next to him.

“Yes.”

“Wishing you could be in South Africa right now?”

Liquid snorted. “You know I would have loved it if our team had been one of the ones Father had assigned to go with him. It’s so rare that he goes out on assignment personally nowadays, but actually with combat teams…?”

“I know,” Wolf said, “I would have liked to go too, especially since Quiet went with him. But half our team is still jetlagged from Sagaing…”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Liquid said, “how is Turkey doing?”

“Still confined to the medical platform,” Wolf said, “but I hear he’s stopped trying to scratch bits of Crab off of him.”

Liquid nodded absentmindedly. “That was a gruesome way to go,” he said, “but at least it was over in an instant. Crab didn’t even see that grenade coming — although, I suppose that was the problem…”

“Do you think Turkey is going to quit?” Wolf said.

“Who knows? I heard from Kangaroo that _he’s_ going to ask to be discharged soon, though.”

“Well, he has been here for eleven years. Perhaps it is time for him to move on, anyway.” She sighed, leaning her head on Liquid’s shoulder. “I miss Buffalo.”

“I’m sure she’s doing well, wherever she is.”

It was in the weeks after that that some very, very bad news came in.

* * *

“This is unacceptable.”

“Liquid—“

“No! This can’t be happening, Ocelot! He can’t be coming _here_ , he _ran_ the damn unit!! He _sent the man_ who blew up the fortress!!”

Ocelot made a placating gesture. “He wasn’t trying to kill V, Liquid. Trust me.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that he didn’t plan for this outcome?!” Liquid shouted, sweeping his arm furiously.

“He sent in a rookie. A _rookie_ , Liquid, as in the least qualified person he could have _possibly_ sent. No, he didn’t intend for things to turn out like-“

“But they _did_ anyway, didn’t they?!”

Ocelot put his hands on Liquid’s shoulders. Liquid clenched his fists angrily, glowering at him. “Outer Heaven is as much his as it is- as it _was_ V’s. It’s always been that way, Liquid. Now that he’s been exposed, he can’t run FOXHOUND anymore, so your father-“

“He is _not_ my father!!” Liquid snapped, “my father just _died_ , near Galzburg!!”

“Liquid—“ Ocelot tried again.

Liquid stepped back, waving Ocelot’s arms away from him. “No, I refuse to accept this. Any of this. _Big Boss_ ,” he said, spitting the name like acid, “has _no right_ to be here. He ought to go to Hell instead!”

Ocelot flinched. It was an unusual move for him, but Liquid hardly noticed.

“And if I’m still here when he decides to show his face, then I’ll send him there _myself_.”

“Liquid, I’d really rather you didn’t quit.”

“There’s nothing left in Outer Heaven for me with Father dead.”

There was a long pause as Ocelot took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “So you’re going.”

“Yes.”

“And I assume Mantis will be going with you, as well?”

_Naturally_ , Liquid heard Mantis’ voice in his head, although he’d been silent for the preceding conversation. Liquid nodded, jaw set.

“Fine then. You aren’t the only one unable to make this transition - I’ll just add you two to the discharge list.” Again, a pregnant pause, but shorter this time. “I’ll miss you,” he said.

“I…” Liquid’s jaw worked for a second as he struggled between anger and sadness. “I’ll miss you too.”

“…we’ll meet again.”

Liquid nodded, and allowed Ocelot to kiss him on the forehead even though they were out in the open and there were others around who were already looking this way because of Liquid’s yelling. Then he walked off without saying anything else. He wasn’t entirely sure he could _handle_ saying anything else, not without having some kind of meltdown. Or more of a meltdown, anyway.

Mantis met him at the bridge to the next platform.

“So where to next?” he asked him, with the tone of voice one might use while on a road trip instead of… this.

“I don’t know,” Liquid said. He was absolutely miserable.

Mantis looked ahead of them, walking beside Liquid. “At least Ocelot won’t be there.”

“Not now, Mantis. Please.”

“Of course.”

* * *

Wolf was also aboard the ‘whaler’ to Tanzania full of ex-Outer Heaven mercenaries, mostly those who were looking for an excuse or a sign to retire anyway. According to Doom Kangaroo, who was also aboard, they hadn’t had this many people leave at once since Miller just up and went.

But Liquid wasn’t surprised to find Wolf here, too. “It’s because Quiet’s gone, too, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s next for you, then?”

“I was thinking about travelling to Nepal,” she said, looking out over the waves with her cheek resting on her hand, “Osprey has some Ghurka friends he gave me the contact information of. I may be able to continue my training with them.”

“Osprey? As in Sunset Osprey, in B rank, unit four?”

“Yes, him.”

“He’s a fool, we all know that. Are you sure his information is legitimate? You might go all the way out there only to find nothing.”

“I don’t have anything _else_ to do.”

Liquid looked out over the ocean, too. “Point.”

Wolf glanced at Mantis, who was standing on the other side of her. “And what will you be doing?”

“Following Eli wherever he goes.”

“And where is that?”

“Don’t know,” Liquid said tiredly.

So Liquid and Mantis parted ways with Wolf at Tanzania — “I would love to see you two again, someday.” “I’m sure we will.” — and spent the next few months just scraping by as independent mercenaries.

It wasn’t a bad time, all things considered. There were so many things that seemed so far away.

And apart from the occasional night terror, they never brought any of it up.

As it turned out, the new FOXHOUND commander was snapping up former members of Outer Heaven, and eventually the invite was extended to Liquid and Mantis as well. Mantis was hesitant, but Liquid jumped at the opportunity. He was seeking answers, mostly.

Wolf had also been recruited. Apart from how she dressed, she hadn’t changed too much.

“I told you we’d meet again,” Liquid said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “All things considered, I should have expected to see you here.”

In the years after that, some very… _good_ news came in.

* * *

Following the Zanzibar Land disturbance — Liquid would never really _stop_ being bitter about some idiot who wasn’t even a part of the unit anymore being dragged out of his drunken hermit life in Canada instead of, well, _him_ being given the assignment, especially considering that that would have been his _chance_ to get revenge on his biological father — Colonel Campbell retired and in the administrative shuffle that followed, commandership of FOXHOUND was somehow handed to Liquid. It was a position he accepted with almost malicious glee.

The first thing he did was check the old records now available to him of the Outer Heaven incident near Galzburg, South Africa. He surprised to find his own face, except paler and with dark hair, staring back at him from the file of the agent who had been sent in back then.

“Solid Snake, huh…”

It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was. Or rather, _what_.

Following Campbell’s example, Liquid sent out recruitment offers to the scattered remains of Outer Heaven (or rather, to several former Outer Heaven mercenaries, as the PF simply ceased to exist when Big Boss was killed) including a man who had been in A through S rank, unit one - Vulcan Raven - and… Revolver Ocelot.

“ _No_ ,” Mantis said.

“Your input isn’t needed, Mantis,” Liquid said tiredly.

“If he accepts the offer, then I will kill him as soon as he shows up here.”

“If he accepts the offer, then you will _leave him alone_ because I do _not_ want you killing a comrade.”

Mantis scoffed. “That man will never be a comrade of mine. Never again.”

“Mantis-“

“Not after what he did to you.”

Liquid slammed his hands on his desk. “ _That—_ “ he started angrily, “…that doesn’t matter anymore, it was a long time ago and he only-“

“I don’t mean in the prison camp,” Mantis said icily, “I mean your so-called ‘relationship’ with him back at Outer Heaven.”

“It… it wasn’t- Mantis, that’s enough.”

“You can’t even bring yourself to say there was nothing wrong with it!” Mantis said, “you _know_ he was only _using_ you. That he was taking advantage of you…”

Liquid grit his teeth. “I’m not interested in hearing your opinion on our relationship back then.”

“And you invite him back? Now, after so long?” He leaned over Liquid’s desk and grabbed the collar of his coat. “You may as well lead him to your bed and spread your legs for him as soon as he gets here.”

“It’s not going to happen again, Mantis,” Liquid said, glaring, “I don’t regret what I had with him but it’s _over_. There’s no need for you to-“

“I do not trust him.”

“I _know_. But I do.”

“Why?!”

Liquid opened his mouth, then closed it again, swatting Mantis’ hand off of him and stepping away.

“Even after all this time he still has his claws in you,” Mantis hissed. “you may miss him, but—“

“I don’t _miss_ him, Mantis, I only-“

“—he does not have the right to see you again. What he did goes far beyond _selfishness_.”

“I was already ruined by the time he got to me, Mantis,” Liquid said dryly, not quite looking him in the face.

“Eli—“

“Let’s not talk about it. I’m not withdrawing the recruitment offer just because you feel the need to throw a tantrum about it.”

“Tantrum-?!”

“I’m inviting Ocelot to FOXHOUND because he is a good soldier and I feel he would make a valuable addition to the unit - nothing more, nothing less. It has nothing whatsoever to do with what was going on five years ago.”

“That’s a _lie_.”

“—he cared about me, god damn it!”

“He lied to you, and you believed him!!”

They glared at each other for a few moments, then Liquid turned around, throwing up his arms irritably, and began to pace behind his desk.

“It isn’t any of your concern, Mantis. It never was.”

“It has always been,” Mantis said.

“No, you-“

“No! Eli, if I must meddle in your personal affairs for your own good, then—“

Liquid snorted. “You think you need to _protect_ me,” he sneered, “and you think you need to protect me _from_ my _former lover_.”

“From your _abuser_.”

“That’s not what happened!”

“You are in denial!” Mantis said, his voice going up half an octave. “You can’t make sensible decisions around Ocelot. He manipulated you so much that you _actually think_ you want him in your unit - that you want to _see him again_ after five years!”

“So what if I do?!”

“You are doing exactly what he wants!”

“Oh,” Liquid said with a spiteful, savage kind of purr, “I’m _more_ than fine with _that_ , Mantis.”

Mantis twitched, crossing his arms tightly. “Now you are just-“

“Maybe I’ll take you up on your suggestion! Maybe the first thing I’ll do as soon as Ocelot gets here is take him to bed!!”

“Eli, stop it!”

“Ohhh, god,” he said, tilting his head back, shutting his eyes, and moaning theatrically, “how I’ve missed his cock! How long it’s been since I’ve had a good orgasm, wanking just isn’t the same as another’s _touch_ —“

“Eli,” Mantis said, a low growl in his voice, “if he so much as touches you-“

“What did I say about killing him, Mantis?” Liquid said, his face still pointed at the ceiling, eyes still closed.

“Then I will castrate him.”

“For God’s sake, Mantis, he’s what - 56 this year? I doubt you’ll be finding his sex drive to be much of a _threat_ anymore.”

“That is exactly what one could have said about a _fifty_ -year-old, and look at what happened.”

Liquid huffed. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

There was a furious silence for a moment, then Mantis said flatly, “if you are not going to call off this whole _stupid_ arrangement, then I will borrow your will for a few minutes and do it myself.”

Liquid’s eyes snapped to his. “You wouldn’t.”

“For your sake, Eli, I would do anything.”

He took a step back, and Mantis could feel the panic rising in him and sort of regretted threatening him like this, but— “You _can’t_.”

“You won’t even remember it, Eli.”

God, he was starting to _shake_. “No. Leave me alone, I don’t want you to— I don’t like even the _idea_ of—“

“Eli…”

“G-Get out of my office, Mantis! Now!!”

Mantis cringed behind his mask. “Eli-“

“No!! _I’m_ in control of myself, dammit, not anyone else! _Never_ anyone else! N-Never again…”

“Eli, I—“

“Out!! Get _out!!_ ”

Mantis let him chase him out and lock the door behind him. He knew that as soon as he was gone, Liquid would slide down to the floor and sit with his back against the door, knees pulled up to his chest, and pounding head in his hands. Mantis’ instinct was to approach him again, with words of comfort this time, and perhaps apologies for upsetting him like that, but… Liquid wanted to be alone right now.

“What was all that shouting about?” Wolf said, “I could hear it from two hallways over…”

Mantis sighed. “I miscalculated.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ocelot responded to the FOXHOUND recruitment offer as expected: by saying he was looking forward to working with Liquid again. Mantis imagined that ‘working with’ was in quotes.

The evening after Ocelot’s acceptance, Mantis caught up with Liquid in an otherwise empty break room, where Liquid was holed up (shirtless, of course) rereading _Lord of the Flies_ for what had to be the hundred time.

“You are still mad at me,” he said, standing in the doorway.

“A bit annoyed, yes,” Liquid said, not looking up from his book, “although I will admit I overreacted the other day.”

“Mm.”

Liquid decided he wouldn’t mind if Mantis came over and sat by him, so Mantis did. Then he decided he wouldn’t mind if Mantis tried to initiate physical contact - so Mantis idly fingered a lock of his hair, and gradually Liquid relaxed, leaning against Mantis, settling in against his narrow shoulders.

“Trying to win my favor again?” he said, turning a page.

“Something like that.”

Liquid’s focus shifted away from Golding, although he still didn’t so much as glance up at Mantis. “Trying to win me over from Ocelot, more like.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“There’s nothing to win me over _from_ now, Mantis, I told you - it’s done between us.”

“You are not exactly saying that with absolute certainty, Eli.”

“…”

“As long as you’re not completely opposed to the possibility,” Mantis said gently, wrapping his arms around Liquid’s waist and pulling him a bit closer, “then I have reason to worry.”

“You worry too much.”

“I do not worry enough. You are always getting up to trouble.”

Liquid rolled his eyes, and Mantis nuzzled him, which just made Liquid even more exasperated. Ever since leaving Outer Heaven, the only times Mantis was ever affectionate like this was when Liquid was trying to calm down after a nightmare, and even those had gotten less frequent over the years.

“Is there something wrong with me being affectionate?” Mantis whispered into his ear, “we used to do this all the time when we were teens.”

“You’ve changed since then,” Liquid said.

“So have you. But why should this?”

Liquid couldn’t really argue with that. He turned back to _Lord of the Flies_ , and Mantis slowly ghosted a finger over the V on Liquid’s stomach, still visible after six years.

_For your sake, Eli, I would do anything_.

Mantis’ fingers were very low on Liquid’s hips by the time Liquid realized it. He blinked, flushing slightly. “Er… Mantis?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing…?”

“Being affectionate.”

“That’s…” he trailed off, wondering if he just had his mind in the gutter and that was all, but Mantis’ hand went a little lower and he sat up a little straighter. “M-Mantis?”

The break room door locked audibly.

“What’s going on?”

“You said the other day,” Mantis said, “that touching yourself is not nearly as satisfying as someone else’s touch…”

“I— yes, I-I might have said that…”

“Then, if I am taking care of you,” Mantis said, slipping his fingers between Liquid’s skin and the top of his pants, “it follows that I should be keeping you satisfied as well.”

Liquid shifted slightly, his book entirely forgotten. “You, ah, don’t have to take care of me, Mantis. At the very least, not to this exten-nnh…” His breath caught as Mantis groped him.

“I want to,” Mantis said simply, casually using his psychokinesis to unbutton and unzip Liquid’s pants. With his hand he pushed down Liquid’s underwear and drew his dick out, and he felt a little shiver go through Liquid at its exposure to the relatively cool air, and Mantis’ relatively warm hand. Mantis slowly brushed the tips of his fingers over it.

“B-But… but…”

“Shh.”

“B-But you hate th-this sort of th-thing,” Liquid stammered, grabbing Mantis’ wrist but not attempting to push his hand away from his cock.

“A physical need is a physical need, Eli. It is better that _I_ handle it than… anyone else.”

“But you— y-you—“

“Hush. Leave your protesting, Eli,” Mantis murmured, nuzzling him again, the hand not on his dick tracing its way across his ribs, making him twitch a little. “I know full well how much you want this.”

Liquid blinked a few times, then nodded shakily, biting his lip. He was a little confused as to why Mantis was doing this — he knew it had to do with Ocelot coming back into their lives, of course, Mantis was trying to cement some kind of sexual loyalty that hadn’t really existed before - but to think he would go this _far_ …

“Oh, I have my reasons,” Mantis said.

Liquid moaned softly as Mantis stroked his dick, angling his hips up into his touch as it started to rise and grow stiff. Mantis wondered how long exactly it would take for Liquid to get off and Mantis to be done with it.

_He’s being so gentle…_ , Liquid thought dazedly, reaching a hand up behind him to cup the back of Mantis’ head, making sure he stayed close.

“Of course I am,” Mantis said, “just because you have always had it rough does not mean that that is how you should have been treated.”

“M-Mantis…”

His breathing started to get heavier as Mantis continued, and he hid his flushed face against Mantis’ neck, biting his lip again and moaning still. His grip on Mantis’ wrist tightened but not to pull his hand away, not when he was thrusting up into it, into the soft, almost teasing curl of his fingers.

“Ah… god…”

“Eli?”

“Mmn?”

“What would you say if I told you I loved you?”

Liquid shook his head, the rhythm of his hips faltering slightly. “I-I’d say you’re l-lying a-and… you’re just telling me w-what I want to hear.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mantis said, pulling him a little closer.

“Because e-even back before I left y-you told me that love was just- was just a-a chemical imbalance i-in the brain and it d-doesn’t mean a-anything… you ch-changed, Mantis, but that w-wasn’t one of the things th-that changed…”

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“Just, ahhh- j-just… don’t tell me what I w-want to h-hear. Don’t lie t-to me.”

“I love you, Eli,” Mantis whispered, running his finger around the head of Liquid’s cock.

“Nn— Mantis—“

“You never stopped to think about _why_ I would tell you what you want to hear. I am not the type to do that…”

“Mantis, please…”

“I care for you, Eli, very much,” Mantis said, “there is nothing I want more than to make you happy… and keep you safe.”

“M-Mantis… y-you…”

_That’s why he’s doing this_ , he thought, _he’s still upset I shagged Ocelot so he’s using sex to make sure I stay away from him… simple…_

“Oh, hush,” Mantis said, stroking his hair with the hand not stroking his dick. “It goes much deeper than that, Eli.”

“I c-can make… my own d-decisions… Mantis…”

“Shh.”

He started pumping his hand a little faster and Liquid groaned, his back arching.

“But I do want you to stay away from Ocelot,” he said.

“H-He hasn’t— he d-doesn’t… ahh, ah, oh…”

A firm tug. Not rough, but sharp. Liquid gasped. “Stay _away_ from him. I suppose I can tolerate his presence as long as you _behave yourself_.”

“M-Mantis—“

Liquid jerked his hips up into Mantis’ touch, grinding against his palm, whining at the intensity of the stimulation. “You are _mine_ , Eli,” Mantis told him.

Liquid nodded, panting, dazed.

“You belong to _me_.”

“Y-Yes… Mantis, p-please…”

“And _Ocelot_ cannot have you again.”

“Yes, y-yes, I- I understand, mmn, Mantis— M-Mantis, I w-won’t, I— ohh- please…”

“You won’t allow him to even try anything again?” Mantis whispered, the filter of his gas mask pressed against his ear.

“N-No… I-I won’t… ghnn…”

“Good boy,” Mantis said, gentle again as he stroked Liquid from base to tip. Liquid squirmed.

“Mantis, please, p-please—“

“Hmm?”

“Please, I-I’m so close…”

Mantis didn’t draw it out, his hand was tired and quite frankly he hated doing this. Less than thirty seconds later, Liquid climaxed with Mantis’ hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his moan.

He went mostly still, breathing hard and shifting slightly as Mantis softly rubbed his thumb up and down Liquid’s slowly softening cock, almost absentmindedly. His mind was rather hazy - Liquid was always kind of out of it immediately after orgasm, kind of sleepy and vulnerable. Mantis nuzzled him, pulling him onto his lap.

“Oh…” Liquid murmured, resting his head against Mantis’ shoulder as Mantis tucked his dick back into his pants and fastened them again, “I got semen on the couch… look at that, it’s going to stain…”

“Shh, Eli,” Mantis said, brushing strands of sweat-slicked hair away from his face. The semen dried and turned to ash, disappearing in an instant. “See? It is fine.”

“Ah… good…”

“Yes, Eli. Good.”

“I… I love you, Mantis… I think I have for… a long time…”

“I know, Eli. I know.”

* * *

Mantis wasn’t skulking around when Ocelot arrived, but Liquid knew full well that didn’t mean anything and he would absolutely be keeping an eye on the situation via Liquid’s mind. Liquid rolled his eyes when he realized that and made a mental note to have a serious discussion about boundaries sometime.

When Ocelot arrived, he greeted Liquid with open arms, and when Liquid didn’t step forward to embrace him he played the gesture off so well that Liquid couldn’t be sure that that was even his intention in the first place. Still, though, their handshake lasted just half a moment too long…

“It’s been a long time,” Ocelot said.

“Yes,” Liquid said.

“I suppose there’s no need for me to ask what you’ve been up to. Commandership of FOXHOUND, and you haven’t even turned thirty yet…”

Their conversation was functionally meaningless as Liquid gave Ocelot a quick tour of the base, careful not to walk or stand too close to him, feeling awkward and hyperaware of the fact that Mantis was metaphorically breathing down his neck. Nonetheless there was a certain tension, like the years were stretched too thinly between them and were threatening to snap - and after that, the flood.

Ocelot decided to play his hand when Liquid didn’t fold first.

“I missed you, you know,” he said as Liquid was showing him the shooting range, the last place Ocelot needed to see before he could go get settled in the barracks.

Liquid pressed his lips together, briefly. “I did too,” he said at length.

“But you seem have gotten along fine without me.”

“…yes. Five years is a long time, isn’t it?”

Ocelot shrugged. “It’s easy for the young to move on. How did things work out with Mantis?”

Liquid went slightly red, and a corner of Ocelot’s mouth twitched up.

“I see. Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect it, there always was a side of you I couldn’t touch because you would only show it to him.”

“I…” Liquid turned his head deliberately. “He’s more… openly affectionate with me than you ever were. Gentler. He spoils me.”

There was a long pause, and it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as Liquid thought it should have been. Just… heavy.

“Do you have any regrets?” Ocelot said, “about five years ago.”

Liquid hesitated, then shook his head. It was less an answer and more and admission that he didn’t know _how_ to answer.

Ocelot shrugged, then pulled out his revolver, twirled it twice, and offered it to Liquid, butt-first.

“For old time’s sake,” he said.

And Liquid took it.

* * *

February 28, 2005. About dawn by now.

Snake hadn’t really appreciated before how much the FOXHOUND commander looked like him. He did, almost exactly - except a little better taken care of (he probably didn’t drink nearly as much as Snake did, hell, most people didn’t) and with darker skin and long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, and low on his stomach there as a large, noticeable scar shaped like an upside-down V.

He was ranting.

“We lived and died in a war without end, for no greater cause than simply because that is the only way we could have _existed_. But things have changed. Warriors like us are no longer honored as we once were… as we should be. The eternal war ended, and with all the liars and hypocrites running the world, we’ve lost our place in it. The world no longer needs us… it spurns our very existence. But I’m not done fighting. You might have destroyed Metal Gear - you might have killed my comrades, everyone who was ever _important_ to me - however, Metal Gear is still launch capable… I’ll get our billion dollars, and we’ll bring chaos and honor back to this world gone _soft_.”

“That was Big Boss’ fantasy,” Snake said.

Liquid glared at him. “It was his dying wish! As _you_ killed him, in Outer Heaven…”

“Outer Heaven?” Snake blinked, feeling more confused than threatened. “Big Boss survived the Outer Heaven uprising - he was killed in Zanzibar Land.”

“No!! He died in South Africa, at your hand — my _real_ father, not the _monster_ you and I were cloned from!”

“Cloned??”

Liquid recomposed himself, started pacing again. “Yes,” he said, “cloned. You and I are, biologically, brothers. We share the same genes - the genes of a shifty, honorless _coward_. Les Enfants Terribles…”

He kept talking for a while, then Snake’s confirming things with Colonel Campbell was interrupted by the Secretary of Defense, and B-2 Bombers were on their way to blow this place to Hell. Snake and Liquid fought. Snake threw him screaming from the top of REX, and willfully ignored the ugly crunching _smack_ when Liquid hit the ground.

It would be another ten or so minutes before Liquid died, though, and he did it outside in the snow, in the light of the rising sun.

He wasn’t saved in the end.

And maybe that was the only way things could have ever turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the middle segment was actually written after the rest of the chapter was posted. i guess nowadays aireyv would have put it in miscellany, but instead it got edited into the original!)
> 
> (btw that entire last section is, like, not canon. "canon". you know what i mean. who's ready for feet upon the groudn to go back up four fics from now?!)

**Author's Note:**

> any and all comments will be forewarded to aireyv! i will either copy/paste their reply to me or they will reply on their own account! have a nice day!!! if you have any questions, just ask!!!!  
> 


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